Iori's Las Vegas Fairytale
by Kyle Castorena
Summary: Ryuuguu Komachi has been given a tremendous opportunity and headlined in a Las Vegas Concert.  Only that Iori has become separated from the group once they arrive in Sin City.  Rated T solely on the fact that it takes place in Las Vegas.
1. 01 News

Chapter 1

News

Everyone inside the office of 765 Pro froze at Ritusko's announcement. Seeing that it was a full house with all 12 idols, both producers, Takagi, and Otonashi, that was by no means any small feat. Stunned silence continued to overtake the audience. Iori Minase, to whom this news was directly related, looked to President Junichirou Takagi. It was impossible for him to not know of this beforehand. He wordlessly nodded. A bright and indescribable joy filled her face. The young idol of only 15 turned to Ami Futami and Azusa Miura, her fellow members of Ryuuguu Komachi. They were victim of the same sensation of speechlessness.

"I don't believe it," was spoken by Haruka Amami not in disbelief, but in a kind of sensory overload that was impossible to comprehend.

But for a moment a true sense of doubt was born in the crowd, as if it really were too good to be true. To remedy this, Ritsuko repeated herself.

"It's true. Ryuuguu Komachi will be preforming a Live event in Las Vegas, the Entertainment Capital of the World!"

This time the office broke out into hysteria. Forget the IA, this was a debut on the world stage, let alone Japan. But this giant leap in success wouldn't be questioned tonight. Right now it was a time for congratulations and celebrations. Thus too the girls involved accepted their companion's best regards and well wishes with emotional acceptance.

Though she got caught in the flow, Iori knew for a fact that this was too good to be true, or at the very least, had a few strings attached. Well acquainted with the workings of the business world due to her family's success and her CEO father, Iori knew that this opportunity had less of a chance of happening then catching a meteorite with a baseball mitt. Takagi and the young debutant have been aquianteces long before her debut, and while she would never question his decisions, this time she had no choice. Iori wasn't the type of person to use her family's authority to influence her career, but when the festivities quieted down, she entered his office as the daughter of Minase, not the Idol Iori.

"You want to know the details of your Live event?" the president questioned her. "Shouldn't you ask your producer?"

Even Takagi, who usually appeared so laid back and non-confrontational, felt unease about this inappropriateness. Yes, it was better for the lowly idol to speak with her producer instead of breaking the chain of command, but the young girl and de facto face of Ryuuguu Komachi didn't want her teammates to become aware of her suspicions. Besides, Ritsuko intimidated her. Whatever would be discussed here needed to be kept between the two of them.

Avoiding his question, "Preforming in a venue as grand as Las Vegas has got to require a serious amount of revenue. With as cost conscious as we are with our accommodations, I hardly expect we could raise that kind of capital. Do we have sponsors for this event?"

Takagi edged back a little bit. Not long before the announcement, he'd had a very similar discussion with her producer Ritsuko. However, the trained and educated Ritsuko didn't have the same innate sense of business as the daughter of Minase. While Ritsuko achieved her dream of being a producer and was good at it, Iori was more the kind to take Takagi's place and run the company that hires those producers. The shelf life of an idol lasted only so long, and he fully expected the young girl to rise to such a status when she became older. However, even with as young and inexperienced as she was, Iori still was considerably formidable.

"You got me," the president declared, "we really don't have the money to handle this. I've had to take a loan out against the company, our office building, and my house to cover the expenses."

Iori half expected as much, but hearing it out loud shook her at her core. This was a big gamble. The biggest. If their concert failed not only would the president suffer, but 765 Pro entirely. If this Live turned into a complete bust, the entire production company might go under, including her best friend Yayoi and all the other idols. On the flip side, however, if they succeed the rewards will be insurmountable. Not only ticket sale revenue, but global fame. Certainly it would be worth the risk, but that would leave to question if Ryuuguu Komachi could handle that task. Obviously the president believed so, otherwise he wouldn't have put so much personal risk in this venture.

There was only one question of real importance, and she already had her answer, but there was something else she had to know, "Did my father have anything to do with this?"

"He brought the opportunity to me," he answered simply enough. "There was a sudden cancellation and the casino was desperate to add a replacement. Other then that he helped negotiate a low-interest loan, but that's all he did."

It was a very difficult thing to stand up to her father, but the one time she did Iori forbid him from interfering with her career by throwing his influence around. Though it was probably a waste of breath as he wasn't the kind to coddle his children. Although, he admired Iori's determination and humbly agreed. If he had turned back on his word she would become very upset. This situation, however, was in a kind of gray zone. He didn't directly interfere, but brought the opportunity to them. Had he fronted to money himself then his action would clearly be questionable, but as he left it to Takagi he merely let the man know of a once-in-a-lifetime chance. As Iori saw it, there was nothing to become upset about.

"Thank you," Iori bowed, knowing that she was granted a huge favor in satisfying her curiosity.

"Deko-chan?" was the first thing she heard when she exited out of his office. Only one person would ever call her 'forehead.'

"It's you," Iori responded to the blonde-haired Miki Hoshii in a rude manner as if it were routine.

Undisturbed by Iori's demeanor, "You suddenly disappeared, everyone was looking for you."

"As you can see, I'm still here."

Miki looks over Iori's shoulder to see the door she just exited, "Were you speaking with the president?"

"I had a few things to discuss," she hauntly replies, putting herself on airs like only a person born of privilege can do. "If we're going to be traveling abroad, I'll only stay at the best hotels in the largest suites. I just made sure he knew that."

"Oh wow. Miki wishes she were going."

"Ho ho ho! Maybe when you get as famous as me, you'll travel the world as well!"

Miki simply stood there and smiled. Though there was nothing betrayed in her expression, Iori thought that maybe the simple Miki might have seen through her act. Everything out of her mouth was a bold-faced lie, but it was to protect them from knowing what kind of risk the company was taking, and the unbearable amount of pressure that was put onto Ryuuguu Komachi. Not that Miki could have understood it that far, but at best she could only ascertain that something was amiss.

Nevertheless, now wasn't the time to be brooding over the negatives of the situation. Now was a time for celebrating. It was rare for an Idol to even leave Japan, but to headline in Las Vegas was surely a monumental feat. All that other stuff could be worried about later.


	2. 02 The Flight

Chapter 2

The Flight

Three weeks passed by in a flash. News had spread like wildfire about their US debut and the media kicked up a frenzy. Because of the abruptness of the opportunity, many of the previously scheduled appearances had to be canceled, and there was much preparation that was needed of Ryuuguu Komachi. However, the other idols had a sudden influx of jobs. Because of their companions and their Las Vegas date, those related to the star studded trio became nearly as famous as well. Takao Kuroi of 961 Productions was absolutely livid.

At Narita International Airport, the only ones who had time to see Ryuuguu Komachi off was President Takagi, Otonashi, Iori's best friend Yayoi Takatsuki, Yukiho Hagiwara, and Ami's twin sister Mami. Also present were the parents of Azusa Miura.

"Waah! It's no fair! No fair! No fair!" Mami cried to Ami. "Mami wants to go too!"

Those in attendance simply smiled and laughed nervously. As their little act was playing out, Iori spoke to her friend.

"Has everything at home been going well?"

Surprised that she was thinking of her friend and not her own dilemma, Yayoi suddenly became nervous, "Ah! They're alright! Chousuke wanted me to tell you not to screw up. Um, are _you_ alright?"

"What? I'm fine! Do you expect someone like _me_ to get nervous?"

"Yeah, but, are you going to be okay with flying?"

Somewhat puzzled, Iori looked back towards some of the planes incoming and departing. "I'll be fine. I used to fly around all the time. Since I became an idol I haven't been traveling abroad as much, but I'm sure I still have my sea legs."

Someone else, on the other hand, wasn't so confident.

"Are you sure you going to be okay Azusa?" Ms. Miura asked her daughter.

"Yes. I'll be fine." Her body was as ridged as her speech. Those eyes of hers seemed to look at nothing and everything at the same time.

"Okay everyone," Ritsuko clapped her hands to draw everyone's attention, "do you have all your luggage? We have a flight to catch!"

For a moment Iori stood by and did nothing. Perhaps she was expecting curbside service. Eventually she took the hint and grabbed her belongings with a heavy sigh. Before she let the doors close behind her and separate her with from the rest of 765 Pro, the young idol who knew the complete truth took a final look back. Yayoi Takatsuki, who had 5 younger brothers and sisters, depends on the wages she receives from her work as an idol. If Ryuuguu Komachi fails here, her best friend could very well suffer. The last thoughts that crossed her mind before completely entering the airport was; _We've got to __make this a success_.

"Iori!" Ritsuko called.

"Coming!"

After the hoopla of going through airport security and waiting to be seated on their plane, Iori was disheartened to learn that they weren't flying first class. Everyone else seemed to accept it as a matter of course, but that was merely because they didn't know what they were missing. Maybe that was for the better.

"You adjust this nozzle here," Iori was demonstrating to Azusa, "and it'll blow fresh air into your face. It'll keep you from getting sick."

"Oh, thank you."

"Iorin! Iorin!" came the call of the two years younger Ami. "Hey! How long do you think it'll take us to get to Las Vegas!"

Iori wasn't 100% sure, but she figured, "Around 10 hours."

"Uwa! 10 hours! Nobody told Ami it was going to take that long!"

How else long did she think it was going to take to cross the Pacific? And where was Ritsuko? Why the heck wasn't she the one getting pestered by the idols? Wasn't it _her_ job to make sure they were all comfortable, and answer all their questions?

"I think I'm going to be sick," Azusa mumbled.

"We haven't even taken off yet!"

"What's all this yelling about?" Ritsuko finally reappeared.

"Quick!" Iori yelled. "Get over here and take care of her!"

Only for a moment was she confused, and then quickly realized the predicament. "Already!"

After forcing the chewable supplement down the older woman's throat, Azusa finally calmed down and the flight was underway.

An hour into airtime and two/thirds of Ryuuguu Komachi was already fast asleep. At that point Iori put down her Las Vegas Travel Guide and looked back to check on her partners.

"They finally calmed down," Ritsuko commented.

"Yeah. I already knew this, but neither of them are really built for long trips."

"And you? Would you say you're the opposite?"

Iori had to stop and think about it for a second. "I don't know. Maybe. The world's so much bigger then just Japan. I know not everybody gets the opportunity, but everyone should see as much of the world as they can. The Spanish Steps of Italy, the museums and galleries of France, the rugged landscapes and natural formations of America. This world has so much to offer, but most Japanese never leave the comfort of their tiny little island. I've seen a lot, and I still want to see more."

"That's unusually poetic for you."

"Ho ho ho! Lest you forget, I am an extremely cultured individual. The lot of you are merely too uncivilized to recognize the greatness that's before you."

"Well it's hard to recognize especially with you carrying a stuffed bunny around."

"Usa-chan is not merely a stuffed bunny! She is a great companion that has traveled the world with me! She has a ton more countries stamped on her passport then you do!"

Ignoring the fact that it was impossible for a stuffed toy to have a passport, Iori was at least partially correct. That little doll had seen more of the world then Ritsuko, which disturbed her greatly.

In spitefulness, "Well then, I expect Usa-chan and yourself to give us a good tour of Las Vegas."

Many places around the globe had Iori witnessed, but Las Vegas wasn't one of them. Hence the travel guide she was reading. Ritsuko must have picked up on her little cues and surmised the cocky girl's unfamiliarity with the region. However, when pushed this far the Minase couldn't back down.

"Y-y-you're right! I'll show you everything there is to see in Las Vegas!"

Covering her mouth so as not to reveal that she was laughing, the producer figured it was about time for her to rest her eyes and catch a bit of sleep herself. The Live wasn't for a couple of days, but there was still plenty to prepare before the actual show.

For someone who enjoyed traveling so much, there were plenty of books that the young Iori had brought to read, but she instead asked the flight attendant for everything Las Vegas related that they had. There were numerous guides that highlighted some of the entertainment sights, fine dining restaurants, but nothing truly spectacular involving maps. While she might have had servants that could have taken her anywhere she wanted to go while traveling with her family, that didn't mean she'd be completely lost without them. There were many skills which she honed that would generally surprise everyone who only thought of her as an idol or spoiled rich kid. It's just in this technological era, and in peaceful Japan, those traits were never tested. Perhaps more on the road as opposed to on stage was where she really shined.

So the next four hours were spent cramming as much information into her head as possible. By that time she realized how tired she'd become and considered falling asleep, but Azusa and Ami had awoken and were as restless as before. The older woman kept sifting between a type of hysteria and zen-like calm, while the younger kept bouncing around as if she missed her latest prozac. Ami had borrowed her sister's PSP (although she still had her own), and forced Iori to play. In the first place she wasn't one for games, but she couldn't resist after much of Ami's pleading. It wasn't so bad that she couldn't control her character, but Iori still got her butt kicked.

By the time her physical limits were being reached, the airplane had made it's final decent.


	3. 03 Division

Chapter 3

Division

Only could Iori imagine how she looked at this moment. Deprivation of sleep and weary muscles undoubtedly took it's tool on her complexion. However, one of the most important aspects of traveling was to adjust her own biological clock with the locale. By the sight outside the airplane window, it was late afternoon. As long as she can keep at it until sundown, she'll wake up bright and early in the morning and be perfectly in-sync with Las Vegas. The others will be up all night and feel terrible tomorrow.

But for now it was going to be a trying few hours.

The entire flight was abuzz with the touchdown in Las Vegas airport. Outside was a warm afternoon sun, so they wouldn't experience the lights of the casinos for another couple of hours. Iori imagined how spectacular it could have been to land with all the neon and bright lights to accompany their landing. Well, that would have to be saved for a later time.

Nothing particularly noteworthy occurred with their landing, other then Azusa being extremely thankful of standing on solid ground once again. The quartet shuffled their way to baggage claim. Being somewhat more cynical than normal, Iori halfway expected some of their things to be missing, but everything eventually turned up. It was of no surprise that it was she who packed the most luggage, but in no way was it unreasonable. If this were a couple years ago, however, she'd need an entire entourage just to carry her stuff. At least she's maturing as she grows older.

This trip was to last five days. Currently it was Tuesday, with the Live on Friday, and they would leave on Sunday. There was a lot of time before the event, but they would surely have a jam-packed schedule. Saturday would be their main day to enjoy the experience of Las Vegas, and until then it was all work.

Or at least, that's how it was all planned.

On their way out of the terminal, there was a man holding the a sign "Ryuuguu Komachi," written in Kanji.

"Oh ho," Iori gleamed, "Takagi spent some money and got us a chauffeur."

"Cool!" voiced Ami.

"Actually," Ritsuko interrupted, "he's an interpreter."

The brightness dimmed in her face.

"He'll be with us the entire trip."

"Konnichiwa," the man over-zealously pronounced.

Perhaps only older then Azusa (who turned 21 not more then a few months ago) by a couple years, was a young man of clear Asian decent. However, his facial characteristics and darker skin placed him as Korean. Buzzed extremely short, his scalp was visible through his black hair. He was of medium build and maybe only 2 or 3 cm shorter then Azusa. Clearly he was a university student, as he was wearing a UNLV sweater over a pair of denim jeans. If he was a professional interpreter, he clearly didn't have a very high rate. It made the young girl wonder just how exactly Takagi found this guy.

"Hello, welcome to America. My name is Richie Young, and I'll be your guide for until Friday."

At least his Japanese was passable, but Iori still had to wonder why this man was here. As he spoke, it was clear that his eyes kept focusing on Azusa and Ritsuko, the two oldest members of the group. The young idol looked between the others in Ryuuguu Komachi, and nobody yet seemed to pick up on this. Azusa stood by quietly and smiled, while Ami didn't really pay much attention to the man and instead was looking everywhere trying to find the casinos they saw on the way in. Ritsuko went forward as if everything was still business.

"Thank you," she bowed, "I'm Akizuki Ritsuko, Producer of the idol group Ryuuguu Komachi." Motioning to each as she made the introductions, "These are Futami Ami, Miura Azusa, and Minase Iori. We are in your care."

"We are in your care," two of the girls said, with only Azusa bowing. Iori said nothing but bowed, electing to keep her silence and observe his actions.

"Well, lets get going and take a look at Las Vegas." Richie led the girls outside the terminal, but as Azusa passed he placed his hand on her shoulder and helped moving her forward. "We're looking at great weather for the coming week, so it should be great for the show." Ritsuko saw what he was doing and immediately cut between him and her idol. Acting as if nothing happened, Richie signals of a taxicab. "So, which hotel are you guys staying in?"

While Ritsuko was busy speaking with their guide, the idols had an impromptu meeting at the back of the cab.

"Did you see that!" Iori roared in a hushed tone.

Ami perhaps thought it was more funny than anything else, "Onii-chan is echi."

Azusa tried to smile, but it was obviously forced, "Now now, we're in a different country now and there's a different culture."

"You don't have to take that!" Iori continued to rage. "If he tries anything like that again, we should just have him fired!"

"Now now," Azusa began with handing her luggage to the cab driver, who had since exited his vehicle and opened the trunk, "We can't do anything if he isn't here. We need someone to translate for us or we'd only get lost."

Iori thought, _Speak for yourself_.

"And he won't be with us _all_ the time, so we'll just have to deal with it."

That perhaps wasn't the best attitude to take considering the situation, but Iori decided to let it be. After all, of all the people who hated to be inappropriately touched, Azusa must have been the one most offended. But she was in a foreign country and about to preform in a very important Live. It was no longer a matter of "Business as usual," it was up to all of them to give it 100%. If they had to suffer a bit of discomfort and humiliation, then that's the way it had to be. Though it didn't mean that any of them had to like it.

Iori was the last to hand her bag to the driver, and then walked over to take her seat in the cab. However, there was a problem. The rear seat was clearly meant for only three, and the front passenger clearly was designated to the interpreter.

As a hand was placed on her back, her body shivered, "Go ahead and squeeze on in there."

"I-I-I'll follow you guys."

"Iori!" Ritsuko called out.

"It's too crowded in there," she called back. "It's okay, I'll meet you at the hotel."

Waving in a second cab, the young girl hastily dove into the back as it approached.

"Where are you headed?" this driver had a thick accent of an origin Iori couldn't pinpoint.

Actually, now that she thought about it, Iori didn't know at which hotel they were staying. But then again...

Speaking in English, "Follow that taxi."

"_That_ cab? You sure?"

"Yes. They are my band members. We are all going to same hotel."

"Aye aye, you got it."

It's been a while since Iori had to speak any English, but she knew the language very well. Only was she slightly rusty. Those books she'd originally brought but elected not to read were supposed to help her get reacquainted with the language. But because of her producer's prodding, she read the travel guides that were all in Japanese. She just knew she was making some grammatical mistakes.

As the vehicle began to move through the crowded terminal drop-off, Iori's fatigue caught up with her and was quickly eating away at her consciousness. Her eyelids became heavy and her attention was waning. Somewhere between thinking she didn't need a translator, and wondering were she was going to eat for dinner, she dozed off.

"Hey, wake up! We're here!"

A hand was nudging her back and forth, but it instead felt more like a violent jerk. Being that her body was incredibly sluggish, it was of no surprise that she would mistake the two.

"Okay, um."

"That'll be $32.75"

"Um hm."

Iori reached for her bag which held her wallet, but found only Usa-chan. Eventually she remembered that she was in a cab in Las Vegas, and that all her belongings were in her luggage.

"Yes, my wallet's in my bag," and she motioned to the trunk.

"You didn't have any bags."

_No bag?_ And then she completely woke up. _That's right, I left my bag with all the other's luggage._

"I am sorry. One minute. They have my bag."

The driver nodded, clearly remembering that she said they were her band mates. Quietly he waited for the young girl to retrieve her belongings.

Stepping outside the cab, Iori was greeted by bright flashing lights and some classic rock music playing in the air. Car engines howled as their sound echoed in the hollowed out space. To her left was a wide driveway where cars loaded, unloaded, waited on valet, and simply passed through. To her right was the sidewalk and the casino entrance. Inside there was a large flow of people entering, carrying with them either drinks of their own bags for their stay. Rows and rows of slot machines were lined up to advertise the casino to the outside. The sounds and music they were playing was similar to the game Ami and herself were playing on the plane.

A rush of energy built within her, a kind of magic that she experienced only when traveling abroad and discovering new places. Helpless to act against it, a large bright smile overtook her face. All the weariness from before had now completely dissolved, replaced with an excitement that made her want to run around in circles.

Printed on the class doors was the word "Tropicana."

"So this is Las Vegas," she unknowingly spoke in Japanese.

"Little miss," the driver yelled from over his cab.

Iori turned back and saw him shrug his shoulders. He was waiting for his fare.

"Yes! Sorry!"

"First time in Vegas!"

Enthusiastically she nodded.

Right now the others must be going through the same kind of trance. After all, they've never even left Japan, let alone visit anywhere with even half this amount of energy. Surely they must have been completely dumbstruck.

The cab that was ahead of them, the one that Iori told her driver to follow, pulled away. In it's place was a family that the young girl had never seen before.

* * *

><p><em>Whew, done with the intro chapters. It's been a (long) while since I posted anything on-line, and as I've been exploring the possibility of becoming a professional writer, it felt good to post something that had absolutely zero percent chance of being published. Normally I like to make my own stories with my own characters, but this idea popped into my head a few one day and grew wings. I've written a bit, but this is my first Fan Fic. However, with everything in which I immerse myself, I try to come to know the characters as if they were real people, so hopefully I've nailed their personalities as closely as they were intended. Anyway, that's enough of my personal gripes.<em>

_Iori's Las Vegas Fairytale is a kind of "Anime meets Real Word" -type of story. Normally a formula that you wouldn't expect to yield decent results (and let's face it, how much of anime could possible happen in real life?), but as this story picks up traction I hope to portray the following events with as much realism and human emotion as possible. So everything from here on will be real world locations and real world situations. And before anyone asks, yes, I LIVE in Las Vegas, so I know what happens here very well. Some of what will take place might have actually happened to me or someone I know, and the original characters will be based off people with whom I'm personally antiquated. I'll be changing names of course, but if something seems too far out of the ordinary, let me just say that sometimes life is stranger than fiction._

_All that aside, I hope you enjoy my story._

_~Kyle Castorena  
><em>


	4. 04 A Streetcar Named Iori

Chapter 4

A Streetcar Named Iori

Watching the taxi ahead of her pull away, Iori nearly lost the strength to stand. Starting to swoon, she managed to catch the roof of the cab and keep herself erect.

"Hey, is everything alright?"

That voice seemed so far away and distant. The music too, that had been playing overhead, seemed to quiet. However, all the while she kept repeating in her head, _Calm down! You're misunderstanding! They have to be here!_ Rational told her that she was simply looking at the wrong cab, and that they either pulled into the casino further ahead or behind. After all, there were many taxis parked by the curb. Her friends were simply in another one. Yet all the while, that shadow of doubt never shrank, only expanded.

Before she moved ahead, she looked behind. There were two cabs unloading behind her. Clearly the closest one wasn't them, and she moved to see the one further behind.

"Hey! Where are you going!"

Neither of them were it, so she turned around and moved forward. Nearly everyone that was parked ahead of them were now gone, those who had exited the cab were on their way into the casino. There was only one taxi remaining, so she moved to peer inside.

"Where are you going!" The cab driver rushed to her side and grabbed her by the shoulder, effectively stopping her from investigating further.

"I need to meet them! My friends are right there!"

"You said your 'band members' were in that cab, so I followed them. They pulled away. Are you trying to cheat me!"

"No! I..." and then she thought about it. Had she been too drowsy and accidentally pointed out the wrong cab? How could she make such a mistake! Was she truly so incapable that she couldn't be left alone for even a few minutes? What the heck was she going to do now?

Seeing that her predicament was indeed dire, the driver offered absolutely no sympathy. Grabbing her by the arm, he jerked her hard to the side of his cab. Iori cried out in pain, but the man was unhesitating.

"You call your friends and tell them-"

"Stop that!"

Suddenly another hand grabbed the man's own, one that was much larger. Seized by this intense pressure, the cab driver lost all strength in his grip and released Iori by reflex. Once the two were separated, by the same hand that he grabbed, he was pushed back. His legs propelled him to the hood of his cab, and he nearly took a tumble, but he managed to save himself. After gathering his bearings, the driver faced the intruder.

This was a man of no small stature. Standing a whole head above the assaulter, he had a wide build and didn't seem the type to be intimidated by the driver's physical abuse. Over his bridge was a pair of glasses, and he had a rugged beard and long dark brown hair (tied in a ponytail). There was a sense of "wildness" about him, yet also a sophistication. Somewhat like a lion stalking the Savanna. He stood firm with only the hand that he used to dispatch the driver extended.

"No matter what happens," this man says boldly, "you have no right to touch your passenger!"

Now looking more like a scrappy chihuahua, the driver barks back, "But she hasn't paid her fare!"

"I understand that," his voice is just as authoritative as before, but there's a softness that lacks hostility. He must have interfered intending to be a mediator, not a judge. "But that's no excuse for your behavior. Now, let's discuss the situation."

Sensing that he is no longer threatening, the driver calms down and begins to think rationally once again, "She told me to follow cab, so I follow cab."

The bearded man looks back towards Iori for the first time, and for a moment they lock eyes. They are a pair of deep green eyes, somewhat enlarged by the focus of his glasses. Analyzing and understanding, they are full of experience and intelligence. He turns away as if he understands the entire situation.

"You picked her up from the airport?"

"That's right."

"And she wanted you to follow a cab?"

"Yes."

"Who was in that cab?"

Iori was going to answer, "It-" but the man's hand suddenly shot out, stopping in a spot that fenced her off from the driver.

For a moment there was silence, but the man kept staring at the driver.

"She said it was her 'band members.'"

"Band members? So her belongings were in _that_ cab."

"That's what she said."

"But she didn't know the people in that other cab?"

"No! I doubt she was even telling me the truth! She is a liar and a cheat!"

"Calm down!" his voice boomed, immediately quelling the driver's charges. "But that is indeed a problem." His hand goes to his chin, as if contemplating something. A few seconds pass as he dwells over something. "I guess there's no choice. I'll cover her fare, so how much did it come to?"

"$32.75. I should charge her more for making me waste my time."

Something changed in the atmosphere at that moment. Maybe the driver felt it as well, but the hairs on the back of Iori's head began standing on end.

"Did you say $32.75?"

The driver repeated, "Yeah. $32.75."

"You damned tunnel rat! The airport's only a block away! How did she ring up a fare over $30? Did you even follow the cab like the kid asked? Or did you do this on purpose to squander as much money out of her as you could!"

The driver didn't give a response, but it was completely clear that he was defensive and nervous.

"Bastard." The bearded man reaches into his pocket and retrieves his wallet. Taking out a couple of bills, he throws the cash at the driver in disgust. "That's all a piece of trash like you deserves!"

Not possessing the integrity to not stoop that low, he snatches the money off the ground like a scavenger. Iori remembered the term the bearded man used, "Tunnel Rat" and agreed completely. He did look like a rat.

The man stood his ground with his arm still in place, as if ready to shield Iori from any potential threat this driver might still possess. By his actions and how he spoke, he clearly didn't hand the driver the whole $30. But the driver was probably glad he even got this much after the man's interference, so after picking up everything, he got in his cab and sped away.

The bearded man breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness that's over," he says to himself, his voice no longer as stern and deep as it was before. "Hey kid," turning to Iori, "what do you say we go inside and catch our breaths. We can discuss the situation we've gotten ourselves into."

For a while the whole scene seemed like something out of a dream, and momentarily was she caught in a haze. But with the wind deflated out of his sails, and the bearded man no longer tense and imposing, showing his humanity made the dream fade into reality. At that moment Iori realized herself and showed her manners.

"Thank you very much kind sir," she spoke as she bowed. "But I can not impose on you any further."

He tried waving it off, "You don't have to be all formal, and please don't call me 'sir.'"

"No, I must insist. You have done me favor, but I can not allow that debt to increase. I thank you for what you have done, but I must continue on my own."

"Well, sure. If that's the way you want it. Then, take care, kid."

There was a bit of a lonely expression on his face, but the man obeyed the young girl's wishes and took his leave. He turned around, facing back into the casino, and headed slightly to the side. There was a backpack placed on the ground near the front door. Picking it up, he again faced Iori. Giving a slight wave, he heads down the sidewalk that runs alongside the casino. From the girl's position, it looks like it leads into the parking garage. Again Iori bows to show her gratitude, but the man never even looks back to notice the gesture.

Iori turns and faces the casino. It was a stroke of luck to run into a man like him, but she just couldn't trouble him any further. A situation like this had arisen once before, and she was confident she possessed the ability to turn this situation around. Then again, this time she only has Usa-chan. No money, no phone, and no idea where her friends might be, let alone where she currently was. This hotel was called the Tropicana, and it was a historic, world famous hotel, but as far as geography, she wasn't sure where exactly it was located. Then again, that man said the airport was only a "block" away. Now, how far was "block?"

"Don't know what to do, do ya?" was whispered directly into her ear.

"Aiiieeee!" Iori screamed.

In haste she turned, and in her fright she found the bearded man once again before her.

"W-w-w-what are you doing here!" she shouted and pointed as if accusing him of something.

Being caught in surprise, the girl had managed to drop her stuffed bunny. The man bends down and picks it up, then gently dusts off the dirt it picked up from the sidewalk. He hands it to her without saying a word, smiling the whole time.

"You look hungry," he said. "Why don't we get you something to eat, and then we'll decide what to do next."

Iori ate on the flight, but that was several hours ago now, and the taste was so bad that she didn't even finish. Now, and after the stress of the previous events, she was famished. As if reading her thoughts, her stomach rumbled. Immediately she covered it with her hand and tried to laugh it off, but she couldn't resist blushing like an idiot. As it was she was neck deep in a very bad way, add to that starvation, and she was looking at a torture she doubt she could endure. Would she yield now to the man's good intentions, or yield later to hunger and hopelessness.

"Okay," she first spoke down-heartened, but picked herself up as she continued, "I will honor you with the privilege of dinning with myself."

He grinned, "Heh, cheeky little brat." Sticking out his hand to be shaken, "The name's Jordan Huntsman."

If Jordan was going to forcibly offer his aid, then Iori was going to make sure he regreted it. Instead of shaking his hand, she grabbed the hems of her long flowing dress and curtsied. "Min-" and she corrected her eastern mistake, "Iori Minase. A pleasure to meet you."


	5. 05 Temporary

Chapter 5

Temporary

"So, all you have is that bunny?"

Iori presents Usa-chan in front of her, halfway hiding her face but still displaying her large hazel eyes.

"You're not the kind to carry a lot of stuff on you, are ya?"

Minase has many purses, bags, and other kinds of satchels, but never does she ever put anything in her pockets. Jordan appeared to be somewhat the opposite. While he had his dark blue backpack, once he took off his dark jacket it was clear he had his wallet and keys in his pocket, and attached to his belt was a leather case for his cellphone, and another pouch which housed unknown contents.

After the episode in front of the casino, the pair made their way inside, found an Italian restaurant and took a seat. Jordan let the young girl order anything she wanted, but only wanted a beer for himself.

"I was coming out of the casino, remember? I already ate." was his response when she asked.

"And you don't remember anyone's phone number."

Again she shook her head. Jordan himself was somewhat a victim of this. The technological age had made storing numbers so easy that people would just select someone's name rather then dial a number. However, the bearded man was alive well before this became the norm, and there were still numbers today that he knew by heart.

"So is there no one you could contact?"

"No."

Actually, this was a bit of a lie. Easily could she get a hold of her father, but this was an embarrassing episode and she'd rather not have to call him for help. However, as a last resort she will go that route.

Jordan sighed and took a large gulp out of his mug, "Well, it's a good thing that your English is pretty good, or else you'd really be up the creek without a paddle. But you said you were part of band, right? Tell me about them."

She only said "band" to simplify it to the driver, but, "Actually, I am Idol."

"Idol?" the term didn't seemed immediately familiar to him. "Do you mean like, singing and dancing?"

"Yes!"

"Really?" there was more then a hint of doubt in his voice.

Maybe Iori didn't "look" like much of a singer, but she was. And she thought about it, _Do singers really have "looks?" _Maybe Chihaya, who was undoubtedly born to sing, but it was too closed-minded to judge a book by it's cover.

"Alright," it was uncertain if the man believed her or not, "tell me about the people you were traveling with."

"There are two more Idols, Ami Futami and Azusa Miura, and we make up group Ryuuguu Komachi. And we were with our producer Ritsuko Akizuki."

"Rugu kam-achi?"

"Ryuu-guu Ko-machi!"

"Well, that shouldn't be too hard."

Jordan reaches for his backpack and opens. From inside he produces a small laptop and powers it on. As he's doing this, Iori's salad is brought to the table. Figuring there isn't much for her to do or see, Iori simply starts to eat. Now that she thought about it, there wasn't really anyone at 765 Pro who was very technologically adept. Kotori, Ritsuko, and Mami seemed to know the most about computers, but none of them carried a laptop with them like this man did. Could it be related to his profession?

"I can't get a connection," he mumbled.

Failing in his attempt, he powers down and returns it to his backpack. Dejected, he takes another large drink of alcohol and grows quiet. Obviously he's thinking things over, so Iori remains silent and simply eats. Every so often his eyes drift towards Iori eating. It looks like he has something to say, but he doesn't speak. After finishing his large 32 once mug, he orders another.

By the time she's halfway through her pasta, Jordan finally talks.

"Those are some table manners you have there."

"But of course, I have been taught dinner etiquette by finest tutors in Europe. I have been groomed to be a fine lady since the day I was born."

"Alright, I'm game. Tell me about how you've been 'groomed.'"

"Nihihihi, you want to hear about myself? You surely have great taste and refined interest. Okay, my family..."

Iori explained her family situation. About her father, CEO of the Minase Conglomerate, her two older brothers, one studying right here in America and the other working in Europe. As a family they've traveled many corners of the globe and partook in many different cultures. Also did she mention that she was multilingual, speaking many different languages and able to communicate with nearly anyone on the face of the globe. She probably could have also said she got a 100 on her last test at school, but that probably wouldn't have been worth mentioning.

All the while Jordan simply sat by and listened, a bit of a smile crafted on his lips. It was somewhat hard to see with all his facial hair, but it was there. All he had to do was ask a single question and Iori continued without end. Surly was she enjoying herself, and it seemed Jordan enjoyed listening.

Finished eating long ago, Iori nearly continued for over an hour, speaking constantly without even taking breaks to breathe. It had also been a while since the man stopped ordering drinks. What this must have looked to outsiders! Perhaps an uncle having dinner with his niece? A father dinning with his daughter? Or maybe even a grandfather on a date with his granddaughter. There was a good chemistry between the two, hence the reason the waitress didn't bother trying to move them along. But this couldn't continue all night and at some point had to end.

Eventually Iori wrapped up her story not because she ran out of things to talk about, but because she realized there were very important things that needed to be done. Not only was she separated from her friends, but she was still technically stranded without a roof to sleep under tonight. At least Jordan made sure she didn't go to bed hungry.

Reading the rapidly growing concern that had been completely absent the previous hour, Jordan took his cue to speak, "The way I see it, you have only two options at this point. One, I can take you to Metro and they'll eventually find your friends, but you'll be stuck spending several hours in an office or a private cell." Realizing she didn't know the term 'Metro,' "I mean the police. Or two, you can come with me and sleep in a warm bed, and we'll continue the search fresh in the morning."

"_N_-_n_-_n_-_nani_! Go home with you!"

She didn't want to, but she had to be suspicious of the man. After being provided a delicious meal, she was offered into his home? Didn't this sound awfully familiar to those stories she read about in the papers? But was Jordan that kind of man? Iori wasn't sure, and she'd only known him for a little over an hour. He saved her, yes, and fed her, but why? Why would he go through all this to help her? Had this ulterior motive been his goal all along?

"I had a feeling you'd react like that," Jordan's voice sounded disappointed. "I think coming with me is your best option, but if you don't trust me then we'll notify the police and you can stay with them. They'll get you to your friends sooner or later, so you don't have to worry."

Guilt was filling Iori's chest. Nothing about Jordan warned her of any ill-content, and a tiny voice inside her head told her not to separate from this man. She didn't know why, but there was something special, or maybe essential, about him. Being put on the spot, Iori tried her best to think of a third option.

"I don't think we should stop looking," Iori was speaking off the top of her head. "I think we should continue-"

"Kid," Jordan interrupted her, "the population of Las Vegas fluctuates over a hundred thousand people a day, and the Strip is about 4 miles long. You and your friends could be looking for each other for hours, pass by a dozen times, and never see one another. This Ritsuko, your producer, might not have thought this and is out looking for you now, and might look for you all night, but there's nothing we can do about that. From her perspective, you could be anywhere in the valley, not just on the Strip. But from our perspective, there is one place we _know_ they are going to be."

Iori mumbled, "The Live."

"Er, right, the concert. The concert can be in one and only one place. Your friends are looking for a tree in the forest, but we're looking for a building. Our chances of finding that building are exceptionally high, and once we do, it'll be a straight bee-line to your friends. Going out to look right now will be a waste of time and energy. So there are only two routes about this; go to the cops or come with me."

In the end he was right, and Iori knew he would be. While she was distracted and trying to stay positive, Jordan was calm, calculating, and planning a strategy that would best combat the situation. He really had her best interests at heart. In the end though, it all rested upon her. To take her chance with him or the police.

Jordan impressed her in just about every way imaginable, "Okay, I'll go with you."

Instead of relief or joy at her decision, he placed his hand on his chin and cast his gaze downward in thought. It seemed a new idea came to him. After a moment he reached to his side and she heard a button unsnap. Iori remembered the pouch that was attached to his belt. He revealed it's contents and placed it on the table.

"Take that. You can use it if you feel you can't trust me."

It was a folding knife, and a rather large one. Iori recognized the brand nearly immediately. It was a knife preferred by hunters.

"It okay," she told him. "I trust you."

"Just take it. It'll help give me piece of mind. I don't want it to look like I'm trying to take advantage of you."

The situation was exactly the opposite, but Iori didn't mind. These kinds of things didn't scare her. She took the knife knowing she'd never need it.

"Good, now that that's taken care of, let's get going."


	6. 06 Operations

Chapter 6

Operations

Almost immediately did Iori regret her decision. Before, during that episode in front of the casino, Jordan turned away and headed to the parking garage. Originally she thought he was heading towards his car, and after eating dinner and going in the very the same direction, she still believed as before. Hardly could it be further from the truth.

"A," the words could barely whimper out of her mouth, "bike?"

"Yeah," the man said over-excitedly. "Isn't it sweet?"

Perhaps a motorcycle would be "sweet," but this was a bicycle. Two wheels and a pedal. There was no ignition, no motor, and most importantly, no place for two people to sit.

"Don't worry about it, I've got it all figured out. You can go ahead and sit there and I'll just stand while I peddle," was how he explained the logistics of the operation.

There were many flawed parts to his plan. Most of which was that Iori was wearing a dress. Unless she sat side-saddle she'd have to hike her skirt all the way to her hip, exposing far more then her legs she'd ever want to under _any_ situation.

"I wouldn't do that," Jordan tried explaining to her. "It's pretty dangerous, for starters. With all those cars that are going to be passing us, it's not a good idea to be sicking your legs out like that. Also you won't be able to get a good hold of me in that position."

So many issues about his comments disturbed Iori. She didn't know where to start.

"Can we just call a cab?" she was nearly pleading.

"Haven't you had enough problems with cabs today? And what money are we going to use to pay for that?" The answer was obviously _his_ money, which has substantially dwindled after buying her dinner. "Besides, if I leave my bike like this, the casino's likely to cut the chain and impound it. No, we're sticking together and we're taking my bike. That or we can walk all the way back to my apartment. If your up for staying awake another couple of hours, then that's fine with me."

Now that she'd eaten and relaxed a bunch, Iori's fatigue was creeping up on her in a hurry. For many years had she outgrown being so sleepy that she needed to be carried home, but with her current condition and situation she nearly believed an embarrassing relapse could occur. Never would she let that happen, intentionally or otherwise.

There wasn't much debate to be had, only could she accept his proposal and hope for the best. Bunching up her long skirt and tying it into a knot on the side, Iori granted her legs the freedom to be able to mount a bicycle. Perhaps more embarrassing then exposing her fleshy white thighs was the wrinkles that she was creating on her skirt. After all, this was _all_ she had to wear. Until she was once again reunited with her band-mates she'd have to suffer messy attire.

"Ugw," she groaned some inaudible sound once looking at the bicycle seat.

"What's wrong?" Jordan started to ask as he stood ready to pedal. Then he saw it, "Oh," and tried to contain his laughter, but failed. His laugh was deep and powerful, echoing in the night air so everyone all the way out into the street could probably hear him.

Iori wasn't tall enough to reach the seat on her own.

"Sorry, I didn't think about that. I guess I'm kinda a big guy."

Big guy her butt. Jordan was huge; well over 180 cm. Of course if he was that big, so would his bike. Plenty had the seat been raised already, but even if it hadn't Iori doubted she could still reach the seat and the pedals at the same time. In fact, if planted on it's hind wheel and stood erect, that bike might be taller then her altogether. This was a very discouraging day for Iori.

Jordan extended his arm for the girl to climb up. Taking his gesture, Iori soon realized there was no spot for her to place her foot. Realizing too late, she was surprised when he lifted her by that single hand alone and planted her on the seat. She was embarrassed that she cried a little shriek.

"You alright back there?"

"Wait," she was not alright. "Your backpacks in the way."

Left the way that she was, Iori would be leaning back slightly the entire trip. This would do a number on her spine. While she might have to suffer the indignity of riding this bike, she would not be inappropriately discomforted while doing so.

"Right," addressing her concern, "I hoped I wouldn't have to do this, but could you wear my backpack while we're ridding?"

Figuring as much beforehand, "Yes."

Slipping it over his shoulder he proceeded to hand her the item. As she took hold of the backpack she nearly fell off the bike. It was heavy!

"What do you have in here!"

Jordan laughs. "Everyone says the same thing. Are you ready?"

After properly suiting herself with the bag and buckling all the straps so it's rooted firmly in place, Iori grabs his sides and says, "Okay."

"Alright!" he shouts over-exuberantly. "Here we go!"

He said it before, and perhaps she only half believed him, but Jordan kicked the bike into motion and immediately headed into the street.

Into the street.

Into traffic.

"Aieeyeee!" Iori screamed.

"Ha ha! You better hang on!"

The pair ducked and weaved through the cars, making it to the far left lane as quickly as possible. Not terribly far ahead were cars parked waiting for the left hand turn light to change to green. They were immediately behind a cab.

When pulling to a stop, "What were you thinking!"

"I told you to hang on! Each one of these cars is two tons of death on wheels! Disrespect these drivers and you'll earn a quick trip to the hospital!" The light turned green. "Here we go!"

All coming from the man not wearing a helmet. Suspecting greatly, Iori imagined that Jordan was having fun, that he enjoyed being this close to vehicles dashing passed him on all sides.

As the cab ahead of them moved, Jordan too stomped on the pedal. In no time he was at a pace that matched the turning car. Under a certain speed he was an equal to a car, but as the cab accelerated it began to pull away. As they flowed with all the traffic making a left turn, the pair pulled as far to the right as possible. Iori spotted a large carbine rifle graphic printed on the placard atop the cab. It was advertising a gun range.

Directly to their right was a casino modeled after the city of New York, with it's own version of the Statue of Liberty. There were many cars pulling in ahead of them and into the driveway. She would have expected the entrance to be on The Strip, but the front of the casino/hotel was here on this side street. Must have been decided upon due to ease of access, as the traffic was already tight as it was. Iori had been to the city of New York plenty of the times in the past, so she wondered how the casino might look from the inside. Did they go for accuracy, or the romantic novelization that the Big Apple regularly received in books and movies?

"Hang on!" Jordan suddenly shouted.

Iori had become distracted while looking at all the pretty sites, that she nearly forgot that she was hanging on to a man while they were combating traffic on a measly bicycle. Had he noticed this, or did he feel her grip slipping? Either way, he was right. Iori redoubled her efforts to hold onto his side.

That was, at least, until she noticed what was directly ahead. A freeway overpass. The road ascended as it bridged over the freeway, and what comes up most go down. Still a little way ahead was a green light and flowing traffic. Jordan rapidly began upping the gears and peddling harder. He was aiming to beat the light. A couple meters before they reached the signal it turned yellow. They weren't yielding.

"Hey! Wait!" Iori's shouts landed on deaf ears.

It turned red moments before they before they crossed the lines, but they still didn't waver. No longer caring for appearances, Iori quit merely holding Jordan by the sides and instead hugged onto him very tightly, screaming and crying the entire time. At that moment there wasn't a single car in the intersection. Nobody but them had dared to run the red light, nor had oncoming traffic jumped the gun and crossed early. Perhaps this was the safest they'd been thus far in their journey.

They reached the top of pass, and sure enough, they started to descend.

There was another light immediately ahead, but it turned green only a moment ago. Of course Iori couldn't see ahead of her at all, since her cheeks were held tight to the man's back, but Jordan saw this very well. Using the mechanism on the right handlebar, he clicked the bike into top gear. Iori started to scream again as they reached speed seemingly impossible under normal human power. They were at such a velocity that Iori feared the bike would simply fall apart. Although, at that moment Iori feared many things. The wind cracked at their sides like whips, and both Iori and Jordan's long hair flickered behind them.

Something other then absolute panic and fear assaulted Iori's senses as they reached the bottom of the pass, the smell of good old-fashioned American Fast Food. Directly to their right was a burger joint with a line of car for the drive-through almost extending to the street. The parking lot was packed and there was customers spilling out to the outdoor seating. This must have been a very popular place as the wait seemed to be excruciating, and Americans notoriously hated to wait. But in nearly a blink of an eye, the restaurant was already behind them.

This speed couldn't continue forever, for no longer where they traveling down hill. Without the aid of gravity, the tires spun only so fast under human power. As the feel of danger seemed to dissipate with their loss of speed, Iori realized that Jordan had a very hard and muscular back. Then she realized how embarrassed she was and rapidly pushed herself away, though still remembering she was atop a moving vehicle.

"Something wrong back there!"

"No! Nothing!"

Iori thought, _Of course he wouldn't be embarrassed by this._ After all, this was the difference between adults and children. A bad habit of hers was overreacting when the situation takes a twist she doesn't expect. More then a time or two had she embarrassed herself in front of her producer and the other idols, and her attempts to cover it up only deepened the depths of which she was drowning. At least Jordan didn't seem the type to egg her on, very much unlike her own partner Ami.

They passed an adult superstore. Then another. After turning a corner they found a strip club.

"Where are you taking me!" she screamed.

"What?" he asks as they're stopped at a red light. "To my apartment. It's only a little further ahead."

"You live in this kind of neighborhood!"

"Yeah it's great, isn't it? You got the Orleans right over there, and the Palms right in my backyard."

"Not that! This!" and she point at the building with the large banners of "ladies" painted on the side.

"Oh. Ha ha ha! Yeah, I guess so. Some times I forget I live down the street from a place like this. This is Vegas! You kind of get used to these kinds of things. There's a school right over there." He points, and sure enough, there's an armada of school buses parked in a large fenced off lot. "I've lived here a few years now and I've never been inside. Want to take a look?"

"No!"

"Ha ha! Yeah, I guess not." The light had been green a while now, but since turning down this street, traffic had dwindled to nothing. "It's not much longer now, so it'll be a smooth ride. Just hold your breath when we get to the aqueduct, it stinks to high heaven."

. . .

Not even five minutes passed before they pulled into the lot of an apartment complex. They were directly in the shadow (and even at night, these vast hotels cast shadows) of a casino, and here were families living their lives. Peaceful or not was a different story. Here so did Jordan live, tucked away in a small corner that somehow seemed secluded even when surrounded by monstrosities. After helping the little lady down, he took his backpack and lifted the bike with only a single hand. Apparently he lived on the second floor.

"This way," he invited his guest. "I didn't leave this morning thinking a little Japanese girl would be spending the night, so it's a little messy."

Iori had a gut feeling that "a little messy" meant a lot messy. Jordan might have been a decent gentlemen thus far, but he was still a guy. Empty pizza boxes, piled up trash bags, dirty dishes strewn about, all that shes heard of how a single man lives (and she noticed long ago his lack of a wedding band). As it turns out, the apartment was only a little messy.

What immediately struck Iori when he opened the door was the furniture occupying the front room. Perhaps nothing a "guy" would chose, he had a large three seat sofa in tan colors and dark floral pattern. Perfectly did it match with the bookshelf opposite the entryway, and the large entertainment center immediately to her right. To enter the apartment she had to curve to the right as another room, perhaps a closet, blocked a straightforward entry. In the corner of this front room was a desk with a large computer and game console, and a sliding glass door leading to a patio. Iori's first impression was, _This looks like something a Grandfather would choose_.

As far as being messy, there was a quilted blanket laying on the sofa.

"I'm sure your tired," Jordan spoke up when Iori finally decided to move forward again, "so let me show your room."

For a moment Iori thought that this was a two bedroom, but she found an unmade bed directly opposite the kitchen.

Upon noticing Iori's confusion, "Oh, that's mine."

"This is not two bedrooms?"

Jordan visibly flinched, but for what reason Iori did not know, "No, it isn't. I have guests here every once and in while, so I let them take the bedroom."

"You do not use bedroom?"

He sighs, "I tried, but I can't sleep in there. It's a thing with me, I got to sleep close to the front door. I don't know what it is with me, I'm just like that."

Iori thought, _Sleeping next to the front door? He's almost like my dog._

"Well, here's the kitchen," pointing to the kitchen, "my room," perhaps the space that was _supposed_ to be the dinning room, "bathroom," in the short hall leading to the bedroom, on the left, "and the _master_ bedroom."

This room also matched with the theme thus far, but it seemed a bit more feminine for some strange reason. Atop a king sized bed was dark burgundy colors with gold trim. There were comforters, throw pillows, more pillows, and quilted blankets underneath the sheets. Compared to Jordan's bed in the dinning room, which had only a sheet and two pillows, this was extravagant. Likewise, this was a bit much compared to Iori's bedroom back in Japan. Iori only won because of her drawn curtains, where this had none.

Along with the bed were twin nightstands, a lamp, a dresser with a small TV on top, and a door that lead to what she expected to be a walk-in closet. Next to the dresser, before the closet, was a patio table with crafting supplies resting on top. By far there was something different with this room.

"Um," Jordan hummed as he leaned against the entryway, "you're going to need something to sleep in, right? Want to take one of my shirts?"

He had to mention that just as the thought crossed her mind, "Um, no. I will be okay?"

"You sleep naked?" he immediately questioned.

"No!"

"Then you need something else. I'm not letting you sleep in that dress."

And he scampered off without allowing Iori further room for rebuttal. Sighing, her expression naturally fell to the floor. In a moment he was back.

"Here, take this," it was a black t-shirt with the logo of a tattoo artist printed on the front. "You might be in a bad situation right now, but there's nothing stopping you from being comfortable while you're here. And go ahead and take the shower. No doubt you're more then a little sweaty after all that you've been through today."

"Why are you doing this for me?" had been on her mind since the moment she met this man. As to why she decided to ask at this very moment, she had no idea.

Jordan leaned against the wall, "Hmm. I'm not entirely sure. I'm not the kind of person that helps out everyone he sees. And frankly, I'm not sure why I'm doing it. As far as I see I've nothing to gain and my wallet's drying out quicker then a puddle on Las Vegas Blvd. I guess the short answer is because I want to. You're interesting, and that trumps any logical reason I could put together."

_Interesting_, he says. Iori didn't know how to interpret that. But all the same she was truly grateful. She lost count how many times she's done this now, but she again bowed to the one that had been so extremely generous.

"Aw shucks, you're going to make me blush."

When she rose, she was laughing along with him, beaming a smile more radiant than any other since landing in this country.

"Go wash yourself up, we got a lot of work to do tomorrow."

* * *

><p><em>Well<em>_, that certainly took a lot longer then I expected. Perhaps the only thing harder then having to go through the heartbreak of forgetting to save and losing hours worth or work, is forcing yourself to delete something that you know you can't make work. It's like railroad tracks; once you get going in a certain direction, when you realize you're going the wrong way, you have to stop, back up, then make your turn. It's actually a lot of work simply to delete something that you've written. Well, it has to be done. And it's not like I'm getting paid for this. My updates should be more frequent from now on._

_Hopefully._

~_Kyle Castorena_


	7. 07 Attempts

Chapter 7

Attempts

Softness enveloped her body and a bright warmth nibbled at her cheeks. A bird's call sung from directly outside the window. Fully rested and restored was her body, energized with a charge that left her at maximum capacity. Iori by nature was a good sleeper, and even at home where her comfort was at it's highest, rarely did so peaceful a night pass as this one. Everything was perfect and right, and then a jackhammer started somewhere in the not so distance.

Iori winced, now fully aware that she was awake and in the home of another. Gradually her eyes opened to the sight of her favorite partner, Usa-chan, staring at her like a husband who had awakened before his wife. Iori giggled, then poked it's nose with her finger. As comfortable as she was, this wasn't the time to be lounging around and relaxing. Many things needed to be done, questions answered and problems resolved. None of that could be accomplished while she was laying around in bed. She rose.

Facing the foot of the bed was a mirror. Seeing herself wearing only a shirt belonging to a full grown man, Iori wondered what the others would think if they saw her like this. If a picture like this was published in a Japanese tabloid, she might as well turn in her resignation to 765 Pro right then and there. No mater how much of a gentleman this Jordan behaved, nothing could be more damaging then the image she portrayed. A little thing like the truth wasn't going to help her. Well, there wasn't a Japanese reporter within hundreds of miles, so the point was moot.

Standing out of bed, she noticed Jordan's shirt was just as long as her dress from the day before. Now there was a scandal.

Exiting out of the bedroom, she immediately noticed that the bed across from the kitchen wasn't occupied.

"Jordan," she called out to the home's owner, "I was thinking-"

And then she stopped herself. A woman was sitting in the corner next to the computer.

"Oh! Sorry!"

"About what?" Jordan asked.

Then the (woman) turned to face her. It was the same one she met last night; the one with the large body, beard, and long dark hair. Only now his hair wasn't tied back in a ponytail, but flowing free from his scalp like a river falling over a waterfall. Iori was rendered speechless.

"What is it?" he asked again.

Could she really tell him that he looked like a girl from behind? Perhaps some boys she knew at school might take that as a compliment, but definitely not a full grown American male.

"Nothing," poorly deflecting. "What are you doing?"

Still clearly suspicious, he let it slide for now, "I'm trying to find your concert."

"Really?"

Looking at it now, the computer is vastly different from what she remembered of last night. Before it had been powered down, but now that it's running it had bright blue neon lights, a port window to spy all the components inside, and a light hum that was surprisingly soothing. By her novice opinion, it was all very impressive.

Just then she realized how close she was leaning in by his face.

Noticing nothing, "Yeah, it's real weird though. I've looked though all the major search engines, and I can't find anything about your concert. Last night I started looking through the casinos one-by-one, but I still can't find anything."

He'd been searching since last night? Then how much sleep has he gotten?

"Oh, don't worry about that. When you get to be my age four or five hours get to be considered a luxury. You're still a growing girl, so it's natural that you need your sleep more than I."

_Growing girl?_ Iori wished that were true. From last year to this, she hardly changed at all. Physically at least. The Futami twins, who are two years her junior, used to be only a little shorter than her. Only in one year had they passed Iori by five whole centimeters. Five! Iori was forced to change her hairstyle to give the illusion of a growing body.

Realizing she was getting distracted, "Is it bad that you can not find our concert?"

Jordan scratched his head, never a good sign, "Not really. There are over a hundred shows playing in Las Vegas every day, if you count concerts, lounges, bars, clubs, and other special events, finding one out of a huge pile like that can take some time. But usually not this long."

Of course the last part _had_ to be especially ominous.

"Will you be able to do it?"

"Of course! But I need to go about a different approach." He groaned. "Ah, I need some time to think." Pushing himself out of his chair he heads towards the kitchen. "Are you hungry? I'll cook you some breakfast."

Wholly did Iori believe in three square meals a day. Even if the situation was dire, that wouldn't change.

"Yes please."

"Ah ha."

While the man was away from the computer, and out of her company, Iori took a more detailed tour of the man's apartment. Inside the large entertainment center was a cavalcade of movies, games, and books. Just about everything that made the jump from Hollywood to Japan in the past couple of years was there, and certainly many more that hadn't. Knowing very little about games, she skipped that section and instead looked at the books. There was almost nothing she recognized. Most were either about American Politics, Technical Manuals, or something that was possibly cult fiction.

Just remembering something; he had a separate bookshelf near the front door. Heading over that way, she found plenty more to his collection. However, while there were still books on the shelves, the racks were also occupied by decorations, fake potted plants, and a wine rack on the very bottom. Jordan had a good collection of books (so much that it spilled onto the area designated for new media), but the actual bookshelf wasn't properly utilized. Certainly this was odd.

Iori nearly shrieked when she spotted _Les Misérables___. ___Quickly did she yank it from the shelf and briefly flip through the pages. This was a full version, leather-bound, and all 1500 or so pages. Definitely a collector's item. Turning back to the collection on this shelf, she found many of the classics that she knew. ___3 Musketeers___, ___The Great Gatsby___, ___Robin Hood___, ___The Count of Monte Cristo___. All the books she loved the very most seemed to occupy their own special section at the entryway of the apartment. Now it made some sense, Jordan displayed his prized possessions on this bookshelf as if they were trophies or pieces of art. This might have seemed somewhat arrogant, but being that they were books, there was a great sense of nobility in it._

_"__Les Misérables__?" He was peeking his head around the corner. "Yeah, that's one my favorites too."_

_Currently Iori had the volume bound across her chest as if she were hugging a dear friend. That he could discern the book merely by the back cover was truly impressive._

_"Um hm!" Iori cheerfully replied. "I named my dog Jean Valjean!"_

_"Really? You have a dog?" he leaned against the corner of the wall. "What kind is it?"_

_"A Giant Schnauzer."_

_"The black ones with the puffy faces?"_

_"Yes! Actually, you," ___remind me of him___, was what she was going to say, but she held her tongue for a number of reasons. One was because Jordan probably wouldn't like being compared to a dog, but the other was due to her own revelation. Jordan greatly reminded her of her dog Jean Valjean. Was that the reason she kept lowering her guard around this man? Was it all due to this familiar sense of security?_

_"You were about say I remind you of your dog," his voice was more then a little sullen, "weren't you?"_

_He accurately read her mind, and in her denial, she very likely overreacted, "Uh, no! Not at all!"_

_"Right..." his voice dragged out, but it sounded somewhat forced, almost as if he took it as a compliment. "Anyway, I'm out of eggs. There are other things I need to take care of as well, so I'll do your laundry too. Gimme your clothes."_

_Sometimes Iori feels like she must applaud Jordan's ability to say some of the most outlandish things immediately as they occur to him._

_"No! I can take care of it myself!"_

_There was a smirk on his face, as if he knew for certain she was bluffing (Iori had never done laundry before in her life), but more obviously he points out, "You're going to do it wearing ___that___?"_

_As if she needed to be reminded, she was only wearing his shirt, but she still wouldn't back down, "Give me some pants!"_

_Now this was getting a little tiring, "Do you really expect anything ___I___ own will fit you? You wouldn't even fit in ___one___ of my pant legs. Look, it's no big deal. It's just clothes; pieces of fabric. You need to learn how not to let every little thing embarrass you."_

_Everything he's said thus far has made sense, and as of yet Jordan hasn't given Iori a reason to question his intentions. Something she's learned as she started as an idol was that if you weren't willing to humiliate yourself, you weren't going to get very far. However, up to this point that only applied to the professional/public aspect of being a performer. The personal/private portion for her was never more then meeting people and going to auditions. Without any solid evidence if they were true or not, Iori only heard stories of what some people had to go through to get the leading role, or a particular Live event. What she was experiencing now, maybe nobody would even believe her if she told them; that to make a Live, she had to let some stranger wash her clothes. Just how silly was this situation, and her own actions?_

_"Alright," she conceded, "take it."_

_"I'm also doing my whites, so give me your underwear."_

_"Absolutely not!"_

_Eventually she did._

_. . ._

_While he was taking care of those chores, Iori helped herself to one of his books. Her own English was enough to communicate with other native speakers, but she greatly felt that still heavily lacking. Terribly was she out of practice and there were times that even Jordan wasn't sure what she was talking about. This wouldn't do. For Iori Minase, to humiliate herself through miscommunication, was something she couldn't allow. Much selection did Jordan have in classical literature, but that wouldn't do her much good right now in the 21 century. In his "lower class" shelf, the young girl found a 1st person narrative of a car recall specialist who's held up at the edge of a building by a man with a gun._

_A little over half an hour later Jordan returned with groceries stuffed inside, and tied to the outside of his backpack by shoestrings. How he had managed to simply not lose his balance on fall off his bike Iori would never know, but it was clear that this wasn't his first time accomplishing the feat. Before he tended to the original purpose of his venture, cooking breakfast, he returned to the laundromat and placed all the clothes in the dryer. This, it seemed, he timed down to an art. After his re-return he started to cook._

_In the end he cooked scrambled eggs, long thin strips of bacon, and potatoes croquettes. Somehow he expected little Iori to eat everything he shoved onto her plate._

_"You should go ahead and eat it all, you're going to need all that energy for today," he explained._

_As an idol, being physically fit was a must. That meant lots of exercise, a balanced diet, and keeping one's weight in control. Just about everything not manifested by the greasy breakfast Jordan had prepared._

_"If you want to grow up big and strong, you're going want to take in lots of protein, calcium, and potassium."_

_While she wouldn't mind the ___big___ part, Iori didn't particularly want to be strong. Jordan was a large man, easily towering over her, casting a shadow larger then herself. By her simple estimation he was about 182 centimeters tall and maybe 100 kilograms. Actually, he was probably a lot more. He didn't appear heavy, or with a ___fat___ American gut, but there were defined muscles on his legs and arms, and although she couldn't see under his shirt, he had wide shoulders, a hard back, and a clearly shapely chest. Certainly was he fit, far more so then those boys from the all-male idol group Jupiter. If it came down to it, not that it ever would, but the three of them together probably couldn't take down this man in a fight._

_"What, is there someone you want me to take down in a fight?"_

_Iori nearly choked, how in the world did he guess that?_

_"I saw what book you were reading. It kind of rubs off on ya."_

_Could she have possibly fallen for his trap? But there was no way that he could have planted that book solely for her to read. Yet somehow, it feels as if he did._

_"Tell me about em."_

_She almost didn't want to, as it was a very touchy and personal subject. Not only for her, but for all the members of Ryuuguu Komachi. But it wasn't Jordan's fault for asking, nor even the book's fault for planting that idea into her subconscious. Perhaps she picked up it not because it simply caught her attention, but because of it's title and the frustration that still lingered from that crushing episode._

_"Do you want seconds?"_

_At first Iori didn't know what he was talking about, but when looking at her plate she noticed that she'd eaten ___all___ of the breakfast he provided for her. When did that happen! A sudden, unknown anger filled her; a tension, and a burst of adrenaline. Immediately she became famished and her rapid heartbeat alone was burning hundreds of calories a second._

_"Seconds!" she shouted._

_After finishing another helping in an almost desperate haste, her temperature began to cool. That melancholy that had been present before was now nowhere within sight. While still touchy and personal, Iori had no trouble finding the strength to speak her words._

_"It was a couple months ago. Our group and I, Ryuuguu Komachi, were up for the Idol Academy __award. We were so sure of ourselves, we thought we'd simply breeze through this competition. I mean, how could we not? After all, we worked so hard and sacrificed so much, by every expectation we thought our time had just begun. It felt like it was destiny, and at the time we thought we were in top form, but something happened._

_"His name was Touma Amagase. Just a solo performer. We thought our main competition would have been our fellow idols from 765 Pro, but this guy...It started to rain just as he began his performance, and one of his speakers even exploded, but he kept going and completely destroyed us in terms of popularity. I don't think I need to add that he received the nomination over us._

_"It was extremely disappointing, and what only made it worse was his cocky attitude. Now he's formed his own group, Jupiter, with two other boy idols. It felt like we couldn't beat him on our own, and now he's got two others to support his performance. I'm supposed to be the center of Ryuuguu Komachi, but it feels like I'll never be able to beat someone like him._

_"After our loss, the moral of our group was extremely low, and even though nobody said it, it was on the minds of all our members and even our producer; that our group was going to disband. I don't want that to happen! Every one of us tried our best, and together we accomplished what we couldn't in our solo careers! If the three of us separate, it feels like that'll be the beginning of the end of our careers. So all of us were holding on tight to each other, trying our best to keep from falling apart. But we couldn't perform with the same kind of energy we once had, and that depressing feeling only kept growing._

_"That was, until, we received the surprise news that we had scheduled a Live in Las Vegas. All our past hesitation seemed to vanish like it never existed, and we were all filled with an excitement like we'd just been introduced on stage for the first time as Ryuuguu Komachi. We were revitalized._

_"But there's more then even that. The president of our production company has put a lot of money on the line for our Live, so much that if we fail, all of the idols will suffer. Not only are our futures on the lines, but everyone's. We absolutely have to make this a success! Please, Jordan, I need you to reunite me with my friends!"_

_Jordan, who'd been sitting patiently in his seat by the computer, stopped and listened to every word that she'd said, allowing whatever food that remained on his plate to become cold. At the time where Iori finished saying what she needed to say, he finished his meal in a hurried gulp. The seriousness of his companion was without doubt, and the man needed to be equal in his response._

_"So let me get this straight," he says after a moment of silent contemplation, "you want me to beat up this Touma?"_

_If Iori had been standing, she might have fallen. Yes, she might have gone off on a little bit of a tangent, but couldn't he at least read the mood? Perhaps she was about to get angry, but a strange thing occurred at that moment. Inside, Iori felt as if something broke. Like a link in a chain, or a beam supporting a bridge. Nothing crucial, nothing that would allow the whole structure to fall, but something that gave it's support. Something, that if gone, would cause the structure to be less ridged. Flexible._

_A hiccup caught in the back of her throat, and exited out of her in a spasm that she couldn't control. Another, as uncontrollable and unpredictable as the first. The first spawned the second, the second __spawned a third. This continued into a fit that was seemingly without origin or end. Only it wasn't a hiccup, but a laugh._

_Tears started to form at the corners of her eyes and her stomach muscles were cramping into a slight pain, but she couldn't stop laughing. Was anything really that funny? Had Jordan told some awesome joke? An amusing observation? No, it was nothing more then a blatant disregard to the seriousness of the situation. Yet she laughed. Was there any reason for this that she could understand? No, but right now that didn't seem to matter. What mattered was not that it was without explanation, for it was, but that it wasn't without purpose. She needed this. Iori needed to laugh._

_There was no way for Iori to know how long she had been entranced in that fit of laughter, but as she was finally starting to calm she noticed that Jordan had already removed her plate and was putting away some dishes in the kitchen. Once she was finally under control, she joined him._

_"How are you feeling?" he asked the young girl._

_"I'm feeling good."_

_Jordan nodded his head while he continued to wash the dishes they'd just used. "This is Vegas, the city of entertainment. If you ain't having fun, you're doing something wrong. So don't worry, we'll find your friends. In the mean time, lighten up and make sure to have a good attitude."_

_Was this what Jordan has been trying to push upon Iori since they met? For brief periods of time while they were together, she nearly completely forgot about Ryuuguu Komachi and the Live they still have to preform. In this life there were some things we couldn't do anything about. The time that is lost until she is reunited can never be taken back, but that doesn't mean that time has to be spent in sorrow and worry. Being in such a state would only make the situation unbearable. So until that time that they are reunited, she must keep herself in high spirits. Maybe if she was on her own that may be impossible, but she wasn't alone. With her was this Jordan Huntsman, a man who at a glance might frighten those unaccustomed to one with such a large stature, but underneath he was warm, thoughtful, and kind. If she could have anyone else in the world to help her through this trial, she wouldn't want anyone other then him._

_"Yes," she answers his statement._

_"Good, we have to take this one step at a time and do what we can. Pressure is only bad when you think about it. Don't think about it, and it's like it's never there. This concert is very important, I understand that, but running around like a chicken with it's head cut off isn't going to get us anywhere. We need to move and use our time effectively. Now, your story got me thinking; what we can't do on our own we can do with the help of others. I got a friend that I think can help us find your concert."_

_Iori feel a tinge of pride at his comment about her story, "Of course you have a good idea, my very presence is the personification of inspiration."_

_There was a crack in his grin, almost like he'd been waiting for her to say something along those lines. "Actually, what I said was a lie. I called her back when I was doing laundry. We're going to go meet her in about an hour. You haven't helped me think up a good idea yet."_


	8. 08 Networking

Chapter 8

Networking

Even from a vantage point, it was large. It seemed so close, yet as they approached the distance didn't seem to contract. Jordan assured Iori that they wouldn't be requiring the services of his bicycle, that this was a journey they could walk, but even then the length they would travel was misleadingly vast. "Down the street, over the freeway," was how the local described their plotted course. In reality it was that simple, but this gave no indication of scale. In reality they were walking several kilometers, and the teen idol almost would have preferred hanging on for dear life on that bicycle.

Also, it was hot.

Las Vegas, situated in the middle of the Mojave Desert, isn't the hottest spot on the planet, but it is it's neighbor. Luckily for her this wasn't the middle of summer, but for the season it was definitely more than to what she was accustomed. Last night she was fairly comfortable, but the temperature change from then and now almost seemed too drastic. Ice could have been forming in the early morning, and then rain would evaporate before even hitting the ground in the afternoon. While Japan might have sun, clouds, rain, and typhoons at seemingly random intervals, at least you could set your watch to the temperature.

While they walked Iori spoke in more detail of her compatriots with whom she traveled. Ami Futami, the 13 year old energetic member of Ryuuguu Komachi. Before joining this group, she was unofficially partnered with her twin sister Mami. In actuality, they shared a single on-stage persona. Personally, Iori thought that it was a very lazy way to go about it. Sure, the work might be split in half between the two, but so was the effort. In their pseudo-solo career, they hardly made much of a splash. Splitting the twins onto different paths was a difficult decision, but it was the right one. Mami, when left to fend for herself, has actually developed a good sense of independence. Ami, on the other hand, has learned the value of teamwork and the importance of following orders. When together they had no direction and traveled wherever their mischievous impulses took them. Separated, they finally had room to grow.

By far the eldest amongst the 765 Pro Idols (perhaps seconded only to their secretary Otonashi Kotori) is Azusa Miura. At 20 she debuted much later then what is expected of a typical Japanese Idol. While her talent and commitment are without doubt, her motives can be interpreted as questionable. She has told everyone that she's looking for her "special destined person." In other words, she's hubby hunting. Now 21, she's still living with her parents despite a college education and a modestly successful idol career. Though it might put off those who only look at Azusa's situation on the surface, Iori knows that the woman is a born romantic and highly values her relationships with her family and the other idols. One might expect her to be the leader of the group consisting of two much younger idols, but due to her near-extreme dependent nature, she was forfeit of that role.

Before Iori could get to Ritsuko, they were within close enough range of their destination. She would have been in awe, if not for the awful sewage smell.

Jordan explained to her, "Don't know why, but it always smells right here."

"Right here" couldn't have been a more correct term, as when they traveled no more then 10 meters away, the smell had vanished.

Only about half a day had passed since she was taken in by Mr. Huntsman, but Iori was once again in the presence of people from a great many nations. Americans, Africans, Hispanics, Europeans, Koreans, Chinese, and even some Japanese were mixed within the crowds hustling through their vacations. Jordan's apartment was still within view, yet the seclusion it possessed was impossible only this far away. For a short time she might have forgot, but this was the Entertainment Capital of the World. How the other girls must be feeling the same somewhere here in Las Vegas.

"This, Vanessa, is going to help me find my group?"

"You betcha," Jordan assured Iori. "She knows a lot of people in the industry, so she can help us get in touch with someone that can give us our answers lickety-split."

Though he told Iori the woman's name, he failed to share anything else, but from his expression of when he mentions her, it's clear she has his complete trust and confidence. That was enough for Iori, but was there a purpose to this suspense?

All of it was decorated in Roman architecture. From the marble floors, to the solid white columns, everything gave the feel of the ancient Roman Empire. Then the ringing of the slot machines pulled her out of her temporary trance. While it certainly gave an excellent impression, once you glanced away from the reception area and onto the actual casino, it gave a feeling that was nearly identical to the previous casino from last night. Deep down, was every casino in Las Vegas the same, all having only slight cosmetic differences from the others? Iori knew she didn't have the time for it, but she would like to at least step inside each of the different hotel in Las Vegas.

"We're not even at the best part," Jordan at some point had removed his sunglasses and was again in his normal ones. "Wait till we hit The Forum, but we have to meet Vanessa first."

Jordan lead the young woman through a confusing alleys of twist and turns, moving at a speed that passed by all the other hotel guest and tourists. This couldn't have been his first in this establishment. Without wasting a moment his movements were those of one whom was intimately familiar with the floor plan. In their haste they whirled past gambling machines, table games, platforms that must have been used by dancers, shoppes, restaurants, a large area with vast seating and multiple monitors all displaying different sporting events (mostly horse racing), all to make their way to their destination; a platformed food-court with multiple stands surrounding it in a large semi-circle.

"She's already here," the man mumbles. "And I thought we'd beat her."

At first Iori couldn't tell which of the people here was this Vanessa, but as they approached a single person stood out from the rest. Dressed in a professional attire that greatly resembled what Ritsuko chose to wear, was a African-American woman with black skin and hair, and bright blue eyes. It was difficult to determine her age, but Iori guessed Vanessa to be in her early 20s. For a time she stared off into space, clearly bored, but once she spotted who was approaching her, she recognized the man that was walking by Iori's side. She waved for Jordan to come.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I didn't think I was running late."

"No it's alright," Vanessa had a smooth, sweat voice, "I had the time so I came a little early."

"You looked like you were bored. You didn't bring your puzzle book?"

"I forgot it at home." With their pleasant little greeting exchange out of the way, she turned to the young Asian girl by his side. "You must be Iori. My name is Jacuzzi B."

Jacuzzi B? Iori thought.

"No it's not," Jordan near-immediately replied. "It's Vanessa Brenton."

Jacuzzi/Vanessa flinched as if the man had just spoiled some kind of secret. Shooting him an irritated look, Jordan seemed only to feed off her resentment.

She explained, "Jacuzzi is my professional name. How many times have I told you to call me that?"

"Aw, 'Jacuzzi' is a stupid name. You should just go by Vanessa."

"'Vanessa' is too common. You have to have a unique name or else nobody will remember you!"

Their back and forth banter almost seemed like a routine between these two. Being at the opposite end of Jordan's musings a time or two, Iori certainly could sympathize with this woman who seemed to have endured it for much longer. And somehow, she didn't feel the slightest bit uncomfortable by their scuffling.

"Anyway," Vanessa shouted in an exaggerated tone, further ignoring the man and turning to Iori, "it's a pleasure to met you."

Upon being addressed, Iori snapped out of her slight daze and curtsied towards Vanessa, "The pleasure is all mine."

"Aren't you adorable. Come, take a seat." After everyone was seated, "Now, Jordan only told me you needed my help, but I'm still not entirely sure what this is about. Could you please enlighten me?"

"You see-"

Jordan was immediately cut off by Vanessa, "Quiet you. You'll either tell me nothing or make it overly complicated. Iori, if you would."

In a way, Iori knew how the woman felt, but she still felt kind of bad for Jordan. Looking his way, as if waiting for his permission or approval, after he shrugged his shoulders to respond, she began.

"My full name is Iori Minase, and I am the lead member of the Japanese idol group Ryuuguu Komachi. Because of some problems with my taxi, I was separated from my friends and my luggage. That's when I ran into Jordan, and he's been helping me ever since."

Vanessa took a moment to absorb all this information. Iori was about to continue, but the woman ushered her forward before she could.

"You don't know what hotel you were staying in?"

Shaking her head, "The cab had just picked me up from the airport, and I don't know where we're preforming either. Before we left, all we kept hearing was 'Las Vegas' 'Las Vegas' that I don't really know exactly which auditorium."

"And you couldn't find it?" Vanessa turned to Jordan's direction.

"Naw. The concert's supposed to be this Friday, but I couldn't find anything."

"But you..." she began to say, but trailed off before she could finish. Iori could only guess, but since this woman knew this man for much longer then her, then whatever suggestion she was about to make Jordan had probably already done. So instead she leaned back in her chair and placed a finger to her chin. "I guess it's that bad, huh," she mumbled. "It makes sense, otherwise why would you come to me?" No longer talking to herself, "Alright, I know how I can help. Iori, can you tell me which Record Label you work for?"

Record Label almost seemed like a foreign word to her, but then she realized what Vanessa had meant. Actually, even though in her Japanese Idol career, many of the terms and titles are spoken of in English, in the actual English speaking world they use different terms. There had already been a few hang-ups with Jordan because of the barrier between the different uses of a common language. Like Live and Concert. How many more terms were the Japanese incorrectly using?

"My Label is 765 Productions."

"765 Productions? 765 Productions..." she began to trail off, but then she leap to her feet. "765 Productions! I've spoken with them before! I bet I still have their contact information!"

Iori almost couldn't believe it. This person, all the way in Las Vegas USA, has actual had contact with her little production company in Japan? It seemed almost unreal. But, how come she'd be in contact with them?

"Um, excuse me," Iori interrupted Vanessa as she was digging through information on her cellphone. "I'm sorry to hold you up, but, if you could please tell how you know my company?"

It wasn't really a necessity to know, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. Actual, perhaps it wasn't nearly curiosity as it was a need. Something about Vanessa was striking Iori in a way that was somewhat mysterious. Almost like it was a beckoning, like this woman was somehow important.

"Oh, I guess he hasn't told you anything either. I'm the daughter and manager of the singer Maurus. Have you heard of her?"

That name was familiar, but not immediately recognizable.

After a moment, "I guess not. My mom's not really that-"

"Ah!" She suddenly shouted. "I know her! Two years ago we took our family vacation to Italy, and we saw her in concert!"

"Really! You went to that! I don't believe it. What a small world!"

As she said, two years ago, before she debuted as an Idol, they had taken their annual overseas vacation. While in Rome they went to see a concert (amongst other things) and had come across this singer they had never heard of. Father Minase normally wouldn't waste his time on some unknown vocalist, but he had insisted on seeing this African-American woman. Unsurprisingly, if the father is intrigued, then so too would be the rest of the family. By no means were they disappointed. While not overwhelmingly popular, Maurus had in her a very intense star power and commanding vocals. She had a voice that was as dramatic as a Whitney Houston or Diana Ross. Chihaya Kisaragi, the strongest vocalist amongst the 765 Pro Idols, has an aim to become a singer amongst that caliber. And here was Iori, talking to her daughter!

"Yeah, I remember it! You're mother was amazing!"

"Thank you. That was our first overseas concert. I can't believe we pulled that off."

Oh, now that Iori thought about it, Vanessa said that she was her mother's manager. So she would be the equivalent of her own producer Ritsuko. All in all, this was perhaps the best person to ask for help. How does Jordan know someone like this?

"So, before we get sidetracked any further, I spoke to your Executive Producer when we were trying to set up a concert in Tokyo, but that kind of fell through. His name was...ah yes! Kuroi!"

Iori flinched. Vanessa had mistaken 765 with 961, and what a mistake to make.

"Here's his number!" Vanessa gleefully announced after finally finding the contact information on her phone.

"Wait!" Iori shouted and nearly slapped the phone out of the woman's hand.

Iori should have know that this was too good to be true. There was a wide set of events that this phone call could trigger, and the young girl blazed through them as if it were a well-studied math equation. Kuroi was president of 961 Productions, the company that produced the Idol group Jupiter. The same exact Jupiter that was fit to ruin her own career. President Takao Kuroi was the kind of man that would go to any lengths to succeed. Certainly he would have been infuriated to learn that Ryuuguu Komachi was going to preform in America, and letting him become aware that Iori had been separated from the group was like giving him a means and a way to sabotage their concert. No doubt would he capitalize on this opportunity.

Vanessa, however, was only surprised to be suddenly halted as such. Speechless and still had she become with the young Japanese girl who nearly leapt over the entire table to stop her.

"That's not my pro...Label. Whatever you do, don't call Kuroi."

"Oh, okay." Was the only way that Vanessa could think to respond.

"You don't happen to know Junichirou Takagi, do you?"

Vanessa frowned. She thought about it long and hard, but no favorable response was given. Of course it couldn't have be that easy, Iori thought. 765 Pro wasn't a particularly large company, so the odds of a foreign musician contacting them to help produce a concert was a bridge too far.

"It's okay," Iori gave the signal for surrender, "we'll think of another way to find my friends."

"Well hold on, just because I don't know your EP personally doesn't mean I can't help you. I've got a friend who's an event coordinator at the Orleans. She's got networks. Anything you need she can get it."

Iori found the name of this new casino familiar, but couldn't immediately remember why.

"Let me give her a call and see what she can do."

While Vanessa was busy with getting in touch with her friend, Iori leaned back in her chair and looked towards her companion whom had grown uncharacteristically quiet. While Jordan seemed to be the type that enjoyed listening to others speak, at the moment he seemed to be distracted. Absentmindedly he stared off into space and was fiddling with his backpack with his left hand. Something was bothering him, so much so that he might not have been paying attention to Vanessa at all. Vanessa at the moment was preoccupied, so Iori leaned in close and spoke in a whisper as so the other wouldn't notice this conversation.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

Surprised, Jordan's body jolted, but he quickly composed himself. "Something's wrong."

For a moment Iori thought he was simply repeating what she had asked him, but by his demeanor it was clear that wasn't the case. Something was wrong, but it seemed he wasn't sure what.

"I just talked to Noah and she says she want's to meet you," Vanessa tells them as she places her phone back into her inner jacket pocket. "I thought she could just give me a call back later with what she finds, but she insisted that you come to her. Sorry."

"It's alright," and Iori truly didn't mind. As it was, she was having a lot of fun meeting all these new people. But now that she thought about it, why didn't Jordan simply have this conversation with Vanessa over the phone instead of having everyone go out of their way to meet in person?

But as she was thinking that, Vanessa addressed the exact same issue, "Oh yeah! Jordan, didn't you say you had something to give me?"

His body trembled again, same as when he was surprised, but he displayed greater restraint in marginalizing his reaction. After nodding in affirmation, he unzips his backpack and retracts two long strips of paper that Iori immediately recognized as show tickets. As to which show tickets, the young girl had no idea.

Extending them to Vanessa in a manner that appeared as though he were giving her one, after a moment's pause he rolls his thumb and shows it's clear he's giving her both, "Here. You can go ahead and take these."

"What's this?" she asks while taking them into her possession. "A comedy club?"

"Yeah, I got those tickets for free by using my player's card. You can go ahead take them. I won't be able to make it. Go and take your mom or one of your sisters and have a good time."

"Why thank you!" Vanessa rises from her chair, walks to his side, and gives him a hug. "Thank you very much."

Jordan seems a bit bashful; his face doesn't redden, but his smile cracks in an unusual way, "Don't worry about it. I couldn't use them anyway, so feel free to take them."

"Yes, thank you! I'm so excited!" She nearly skips back to her chair. Picking up her purse, "I gotta get going, so I'll see you later. It was nice to meet you Iori. Good luck."

Jordan doesn't waste long after Vanessa leaves to gather his things, but Iori clearly noticed that little extra stare he was giving her. Upon realizing, she snickers.

"What's that?" he asks.

"Oh, I see how it is," Iori proclaims. "You like her."

His face remains neutral, but his eyes look somewhat tired. He doesn't blush or vehemently deny the accusation like she half expected him to do. There was almost no reaction to her teasing at all, which made her slightly befuddled. However, contrary to her expectations, he said,

"Maybe I do."

He takes his backpack over his shoulder and motions for her to follow, "I don't feel like going to the Orleans right now, so let's take a look around. We can't come all this way and not take a look at a few things. I'm sure you'll appreciate what there is to see."

* * *

><p><em>Sorry for the extremely late update. You wouldn't believe how crazy my life has been for the past couple of weeks. I won't go into personal details, but I'm surprised I haven't shot a dozen people just to relieve the stress. It was THAT bad. Well, I'm once again in good condition so these chapters should be clunking out again at a regular basis. Unless something catastrophic happens...again (knock on wood).<em>

~_Kyle Castorena_


	9. 09 Sightseeing

Chapter 9

Sightseeing

From what stood behind her only a couple of meters, this felt like a completely different world. Once again were Iori's feet upon marble floors, but beyond that this was an entirely new experience. It was a long and wide hall, branching into separate paths somewhere in the distance. The chimes and dings of the casino seemed so far away. For a moment she believed she had stepped outside, but this was all an illusion. Beautifully painted on the entirety of the ceiling was the sky, complete with clouds and the warm tint of the sun. Stone archways, Roman architecture, all elaborately detailed in exquisite textures.

Shops lined the walls as far as she could see. Clothing, antique, jewelry, toy, and electronics stores were but a few that were selling their wares. There were perhaps no themes or planning in their order, but all were marvelous in their display and extravagant in their product. If anything about this trip had gone according to plan thus far, once the other girls and her had a free moment they would have gone shopping in these very stores. Well, they might still get that opportunity, but only if she can find her friends posthaste. Thousands of dollars worth of traveler's checks are within her luggage, though they are all but worthless if they are not within her possession.

Not to say there isn't a reason to enjoy herself. She can still return later, and this way when she does, she'll already have a distinct layout and plan of attack formulated inside her head. It's always good to be prepared.

Iori was the very definition of an impulse shopper, though because of the wealth accumulated by her family it was of no surprise. In contrast with most of the other idols, it was none more so then her very best friend Yayoi, who was such a tightwad that if she wasted a single yen she'd become physically bedridden. While interacting with her friends and learning the value of being employed, some of these traits have been diminished, but walking by all these shops without a yen to her name still slightly stung.

Still, had she been alone it'd be a very different situation. Being lost in a foreign country would always be frightening, no matter how brave a face she put forward. Truth be told she was absolutely terrified when she realized that the cab driver had brought her to the wrong casino. Hence the reason she initially rejected Jordan's aid when they first met. When panicked, instead of freezing up in fear or fluttering about helplessly, Iori tended to shut herself away and build up her defense. Very likely this was a product of her upbringing. For most of her life people have done things for her without her even needing to ask. Perhaps a lesser person would have accepted the situation and abused the silver spoon for all it's worth. However, Iori rebelled and sought to create her own path. Both her brothers are considered extremely successful, but had they not been children of Minase, their outcomes would have greatly differed. Iori wanted to prove that she could still be Iori if she were born to a different family. This was why she became an idol. Money and influence could get you only so far, what was really necessary was talent. Talent cannot be bred and it cannot be taught. Singing and dancing as a performer was something unheard of in the Minase family, so that's why when Iori realized that this was something she could do, she jumped at the opportunity. However determined she may be to carve her own path, there was one thing she learned the hard way, over and over; that she couldn't do it alone.

The president, her producer, her fellow group members, all of these needed to exist for Iori to reach this point. This was not a story that she like to share, but no one was more opposed to forming Ryuuguu Komachi than her. Iori wanted to stand on stage by herself, and make it to the top by only her own power. She now knows that it would have been a bad move, but habits are hard to break, and often people repeat the same mistake repeatedly. It's simply human nature. Almost had she made the same mistake again. Once she made the decision to surrender her trust, even if she is only a small single step closer to achieving her goal, her spirits were high and her resolution firm.

What sounded like thunder struck. While she knew it was nothing more then a recorded file playing over the hidden speakers, the illusion it crafted was very real. In this part of the forum the painted sky had gradually darkened to night. When this had taken place she didn't realize, but now she appeared to be in the middle of a storm.

Currently they stood before a fountain, and spotlights from overhead illuminated the three central statues.

"It's starting," Jordan whispered.

What was starting? She didn't know. For the past few minutes she'd been slightly zoned out.

It was a show filled with animatronics, thundering sound effects, and geysers of water and fire. It was the story of Atlantis and it's fall. Having birthed two children, the king couldn't decide to whom he would bestow the throne. The siblings fight, but their bickering bring neither closer to the crown. Angered by their scuffle, the gods seek the destruction of Atlantis and sent a dragon as their avatar. Burning everything to cinders, the fate of Atlantis is wrought as it sinks into the ocean.

As the show finishes and the area is returned to it's normal business hour lighting, the audience that had gathered applauds. Iori never realized they were there as Jordan had brought her to the very edge of the fountain for a first row seat. Though they might have been elementary, the effects were spectacular. Iori had been so mesmerized by the performance that she had no idea that 10 minutes had passed already.

"How'd you like it?" Jordan asked. "So much ingenuity and effort went into this, that there are people who walked right by and never gave it a second thought."

Iori felt as if this was personal to Jordan. In a way it was personal to her too. Is this the fate of those who rely on the heredity through life? While not to diminish their achievements, but neither of her brothers would have the success they currently own without the influence of their father. Could it be that her two brothers are battling to be their father's successor? The daughter and younger sister couldn't care less about leading the family, and figuratively stepped out of the line of succession. Would the two fight and compete so hard that they bring ruin to the Minase Conglomerate, and share the same fate as Atlantis? Iori figured it was possible. Nothing lasts forever.

"Hmph," calculating her response, "I've seen better."

A large hand dropped on top of Iori's head and began ruffling her hair.

"You cheeky little brat," his speech was playful. "I was watching you. You were all awestruck and frozen. The way you cringed when the brother and sister were fighting, and flinched by heat of the fire; you were totally into it."

Though the technology was antiquated, he had a point. She was totally enraptured. Many ballets, concerts, operas, and other wide array of entertainment had she witnessed. By that standard, this was nothing more than a child's play in comparison. Yet there was something about this atmosphere that multiplied the affect of the presentation. It wasn't exactly a mystery. Even if she didn't want to admit so to herself, it was because he was there.

After ducking away and removing herself from his grip. She said, "You should consider it an honor to be able to watch such a show as my escort," knowing the exact opposite was true.

"Yes yes, my little princess. It's an honor and a delight to guide little lost children to their homes. I'm the very picture of a humanitarian."

If anyone else had called her "little" twice in a row, she would be in a rage, but there wasn't a shred of hostility that she possessed. It surprised even her. If the same thing was said from Miki Hoshii (and it has, on more than one occasion), she'd become irate and somehow be backed into a corner. At that point Iori would have fallen completely to Miki's whims. Why doesn't it feel like that now?

"With you're beard, long hair, and that bike you ride, you're more like a hentai."

Jordan's face stiffened, and the corner of his eyebrow twitched, "I don't know what you called me, but I don't like it."

"Nihihihihi~" she giggled.

"Anyway, we should think about getting going."

While he said that, they didn't leave in any particular hurry. Their destination was the exit on the far side of the forum, and between the Atlantis Fountain and there, there was still plenty to see. Statues, architecture, fountains, murals, so much art crammed into one place this just as well could have been a gallery instead of a mall. At this point she almost didn't care that she had no money, but there were definitely things she saw that she wanted to buy. Some habits simply couldn't be broken in a day.

Outside Iori was taken to a bus stop, where the nearby décor was just as extravagant as it was on the inside. There was a lush, beautiful garden, large statues carved from stone, and even more of those water fountains. While considerably lower traffic then the inside, they spared no expense and no small detail in the construction of this casino. Iori thought, If this was a pleasure trip, this is where I want to stay,but knowing the state of finances for 765 Productions, Ryuuguu Komachi definitely is not staying here.

"Keep going," Jordan was suddenly well ahead of her.

In advance she figured that they'd be taking the bus, and here was a bus stop. So why did he keep walking? Surely they weren't going to walk the whole way?

"Of course not," Jordan answered when asked. "Take a look at this stop. Look at all the people already packed here. It'd take us 45 minutes just to go a block. No, we're going to the next bus stop. It's much better."

How one bus stop could differ from another she didn't know, but he was the local and expert, so there was little option other then accepting his decision.

They prompted to take some stairs, go over a bridge, a path that lead through a casino, and was once again outside. It was quite an arduous journey just to cross the street.

Now they were currently in front of the casino that was most visible from Jordan's apartment balcony. From their brief venture inside to move from bridge to ground floor, the hotel appeared Victorian in design. Outside it looked just as it did from the apartment, but there was a vast pool/lake that spanned nearly the entire property. Light music was humming from some speakers that were hidden somewhere nearby.

"Wow," she could keep herself from mumbling.

Iori expected her sudden slip to draw the attention of her companion and his quick wit, but he seemed otherwise distracted.

"Hey, what time is it?"

No sooner that he said that had a large bell rung a toll of one. Then something odd occurred. What before had been light music suddenly vanished. Almost eerily quiet, those in the vicinity too noticed that something had happened and anticipation was filling the air. Those in the know turned to the fountain. Iori was about to ask Jordan, but then,

"Bright light city gonna set my soul

Gonna set my soul on fire~"

Simultaneously what could only be described as an eruption occurs. A powerful jet spews water a dozen or two meters into the air. Synchronized with the tempo of the music the jets continue to blow in an aquatic ballet.

"Got a whole lot of money that's ready to burn,

So get those stakes up higher~"

Jordan steps up to the railing, leaning over and drawing himself that much closer to the gigantic fountain. Glancing over he motions towards Iori to join him.

"There's a thousand pretty women waitin out there

And they're all livin devil may care

And I'm just the devil with love to spare~"

The jets continue to blast away as The King continues to sing. After each beat the streams create a vapor that fogs the surroundings and all in attendance. The temperature drops a quick 10 degrees.

"Viva Las Vegas, viva Las Vegas~"

Iori feels a pulse underneath her feet as Jordan taps his foot to the beat of the music. There's a smile drawn across his face and there's a youthful aura that hadn't been present before. While it seemed impossible to pinpoint his true age, there were deep wrinkles around his eyes yet a strong cheekbone and tight skin around his face and neck. Parts of him seemed older then the rest, but at this moment everything seemed young. Energy sizzled from the tips of his hairs and fingertips, and Iori almost believed he was about to break out in dance. However, that never came. There was a restrained attitude in his tapping away with the music.

It was at this time Iori realized she was paying too much attention to her partner and none to the grand presentation before her. In time for the second verse, the young girl joined him at the stone railing. Although, Jordan was arched as he leaned over the railing, and Iori barely peeked over the barrier standing fully erect.

The song continued for only two minutes, but the lavish waterworks show made it seem longer. At the end there was a round of yelling and applause, as if the conductor of the orchestra was in attendance. Of course, Iori joined in. Even if the one responsible couldn't hear their acclaim, the sentiment must surely have been carried over the hundreds, or thousands, of times it had received applause.

"You know," Jordan turns to Iori and says, "This show-Oh shoot!"

Suddenly he grabs Iori by the arm and starts off at a brisk pace.

"What are you doing!" she shouts in an embarrassed confusion.

"The bus!" and they start into a gallop.

Iori was trying to keep pace, and she thought she was a decent runner, but with the man's massive stride she was little more then being dragged by him. Being an idol meant being physically fit, and while she wasn't nor wanted to be a bodybuilder, she was thankful for the amount of muscle she'd built. Otherwise Jordan would likely have pulled her entire arm out of it's socket. Perhaps at this sprint he was even faster than Makoto Kikuchi, the most athletic idol at 765 Pro.

They made it in time by sliding into the rearmost door only moments before it closed. Leaning against a nearby standing rail, Jordan was breathing heavily in recovery. Feeling somewhat guilty because he did most of the work, Iori simply took a nearby open chair.

Jordan glances towards the front of the double-long bus. Scanning what's ahead of him, he concludes, "Good, there are no checkers this time."

For a moment she was confused, but eventually she realized they hadn't paid a fare.


	10. 10 The Tower

Chapter 10

The Tower

A couple things clicked for Iori when, after two bus rides, they arrived at the before mentioned casino. First, why the name sounded familiar, and second, why Jordan suddenly began to procrastinate upon leaning of their next destination. Adult store, adult store, strip club; this was the same exact route that they had taken only last night while on his bike, his apartment only down the street. When calling Vanessa and setting a place to meet, if he had chosen left instead of right they would have managed to kill two birds with one stone. Then again, Iori didn't know why Jordan had chosen to rendezvous at that particular casino, but it was clear he was lamenting the fact.

Far less glamorous then their previous foray, this casino seemed more like the first (where she met Jordan) with a slightly different color scheme. First impressions meant, consciously or no, a lot to Iori. There was a nagging sense of deja-vu every time she walked into somewhere new. However, that also lead into being surprised when she learned that there was more then what was on the surface. Only those who determine something at a quick glance would be this judgmental, and the girl had been guilty of this more than once in the past. Examine these things closer and notice all the finer details; this was something she's been slowly learning not only on this trip, but for the past year that she's been with Ryuuguu Komachi. Peel away at the surface and you can find something wonderful underneath.

Then again, what did she know about Jordan? Actually, all she knew of him was what was on the surface. He wasn't exactly a "wild man" if judged by his beard and long hair, but with how she's been treated by him thus far, and by observing the exchanges between him and Vanessa, she could conclude that he acted the same with everyone. But there had to be something more than that? Why didn't he sleep in his bedroom? Why he never completely answers a question? And why he never talks about himself, and attempts to change the topic every time he's asked?

But that potentially dangerous line of thought abruptly fizzled into smoke the moment one of the waitresses walked past.

"W-w-w-w-what is she wearing!"

Iori hadn't yelled as loudly as she expected as the casino patrons barely batted an eye her way.

"You're still such a kid. What did you expect? You do know this casino's theme, correct?"

Yes, and she'd visited the annual festival more then once in her life. Mardi Gras, or "Fat Tuesday," is a holiday celebrated around the world. Brazil, Germany, Italy, all countries that celebrate in different ways. Though the one that presides most in her memory was the city that is this casino's namesake, New Orleans. Perhaps that's not a good thing.

For the most part, Mardi Gras is a celebration of food and dance. While different cultures can have different takes on the same idea, somewhere along the line things became askew when interpreted by America. While mostly resembling the French in their celebration, once the sun goes down things take a different aura. Perhaps no one could really pinpoint when and how it started, but a tradition had been born where women would expose their breasts in exchange for celebratory beads. Iori and her family had managed to stumble across one of such displays, and though most of the worry had been placed on shielding her brothers, that scene had made more than a little impression on her.

Now, years later, she was (vaguely) confronted with that scene again. The waitress in question was a tanned skinned young woman about 15 centimeters taller than Iori, with long black hair. Wearing little more then a dark red corset, black nylons, and tall heels. There was perhaps more of her exposed than hidden.

"Come on, it's not that big of a deal," Jordan didn't particularly sound convincing, but this tone was more than likely on purpose. "Do you want to try it on? I'd bet you'd look cute."

"I do not!"

While she wasn't ashamed of her body, and a time or two she'd worn even less at a photo shoot, she wasn't suited for such a risquéstyle. Be it more out of embarrassment or improperness, she'd never allow herself to wear something like that.

Of course what followed was Jordan's laugh. Of all the teasing she's endured thus far, this was perhaps some of the worse. Maybe it was because he might have been being honest, and that it would have been "cute." Looking around Iori could see that some of the younger men were ogling the waitresses, but most paid very little mind. Perhaps she'd been in Japan for too long and her ethnicity's conservatively modest disposition were making themselves apparent. Jordan didn't seem like the kind of man who would get a thrill out of making a 15 year old girl dress as a burlesque dancer, but he would make the suggestion spur of the moment because he thought it would be fun. In that way he was a lot like Miki Hoshii, though Miki might chronically suffers from a short attention span.

What seemed to be of more interest to Jordan over a scantly-clad waitress, were the men spotted here and there in black uniforms with red and gold trim. It didn't take long to realize they were members of the military, though Iori wasn't familiar with which branch.

"Let's go find the girl Vanessa told us about, Noah." Jordan suddenly became on-edge, as if a moment ago he wasn't laughing at Iori's expense.

Since this was only down the street from his apartment, it was obvious that Jordan would know his way around the floor. The same was true with their previous location. Like when they were going to meet with Vanessa, he moved quickly and with a purpose. Iori thought he might be anxious.

They took an escalator that lead them to a second floor, and suddenly all the noise from the casino below sounded a long distance away. There was a warm and welcoming atmosphere in this area, like the home of a relative whom always kept their house neat. Plants, artwork, seats and coaches lined the walls in between the windows that peeked onto the casino a floor below. Painted a clean white, this was a kind of place where business could be conducted both comfortably and seriously.

"I'm here looking for Noah," Jordan addressed a receptionist sitting behind a counter.

"Yes, I believe she's currently down in the ballroom."

A real informal business structure. Iori fully expected to be led to a waiting room and forced to sit around for an hour. The receptionist didn't even ask for their names or if they had an appointment. Her father would have a heart attack if he found his own business was run this way.

After asking for directions Jordan led Iori down a long hall with many doors lining the way. Peeking inside one that was open, all she found was a large empty space. These were conference rooms used by companies for their meetings and private functions. This somewhat surprised her, but perhaps due to the glamor of the casino she forgot that most hotels have areas like these. Although a member of the Minase clan, this would have been more familiar with the men in the family.

Turning at the end of the hall, "It should be here."

An open door lead to a room larger than his apartment by a factor of a hundred. A vast open space led to the left and right, and directly ahead was a center stage set against the wall. For the most part this hall was hallow, but there were banner hung upon the wall that would normally be out of place, but as it wasn't a permanent fixture it was clearly for an event.

**Happy 236th Birthday, United States Marine Corps**

"The Marine Corps Ball," Jordan mouths under his breath, in a tone Iori can barely hear. "I should've known."

Towards the center of the room there was a young, short woman of her early twenties talking to a man of large build with gray hair. They were currently in discussion and had as of yet noticed the two guests. A lot of motioning of the hands was taking place. Likely they were discussing placements and other such things. The girl is quiet and not easily heard, but the man has a loud voice that booms with authority.

"Should we wait?" Iori asked.

Jordan might have had an answer, but the sound of the girl's voice alerted the two of their presence. Whom must have been Noah gestured with a finger that meant "one moment" and she began to walk towards the two.

"You two must be Minase Iori and Jordan," her voice was slightly nasally, almost prepubescent, "Vanessa told me about you two."

"Thank you for seeing us," as neither were acquainted with this woman, Iori took the lead with a bow, "My name is Iori Minase and this is Mr. Jordan Huntsman."

Noah's cheeks puffed out and she nearly squealed, "Oh! Aren't you the cutest thing!" She then prompted to rush the young Asian pop idol and gave her a monstrous hug, nearly squeezing the life out of her. Actually, she was quite strong, so that wasn't a euphemism. After separating and giving the girl some time to breath, "I'm Noah Agnes. And I run this place."

"It's a pleasure," Jordan replied while extending his hand.

"I'd love to take care of you right now," Noah completely ignored the man, "but I really have to take care of this right now. We're expecting over a thousand to come tomorrow night, and there's so much to prepare even a day in advance. I'm sorry, but can you wait over here?"

Noah was almost in a panic over her apology, and she skittered about while looking for a chair so that they could rest. Nearby there were folding chairs neatly stacked, ready to be used. Hundreds, if not thousands of them. They really were expecting a vast audience for the party tomorrow.

After placing one chair for the girl, "There you go. It'll be just a couple more minutes."

Needless to say, she didn't prepare a seat for Jordan.

"I don't think she likes you," Iori snickered after the man helped himself to a chair.

"No, I just think she likes you too much," was his retort.

"She's young, isn't she?"

Observing the same phenomenon, "Yeah. Probably not even old enough to drink, and they put her in charge of all this? Well, I guess an Event Coordinator really only needs to know people and bark orders, and with that personality..."

"Probably friendly with a lot of people."

He shrugs, "You know what they say, 'It's who you know.'"

Iori wasn't immediately familiar with that saying, but she got it's meaning.

This seemed to be a very busy time for the young Noah, as the conversation with her and that well-build gentleman lasted a long time and the both of them were speaking at a rapid-fire pace that might leave others in the dust. Perhaps their discussion could have been considered heated, but neither of the two seemed anything other then friendly. Just maybe as much effort was being put into this as was Iori's very own concert. If so that Noah was saddled with a very huge responsibility. How that girl could be so casual was amazing. Maybe Ritsuko could learn a thing or two from her.

"I don't understand," Iori asked after several minutes of silence, "why is the army celebrating it's birthday?"

Since there wasn't a conversation to be had, Jordan was cross-armed with a lowered head. It almost appeared as if he was either trying to get some rest, or trying to disappear. If the man was acting normally Iori wouldn't have even questioned this, but something has been off with him since the moment he entered the casino. He perked up at her question though.

"The Army is not the Marine Corps, but I understand what you mean. The Marines might have a reputation as rough-necks and glass eating neanderthals, but in reality they emphasize decorum far more than any other branch of the military. You'd probably get along well with a Marine."

Relations between the US Military and the Japanese citizenry isn't on the best of terms. In the papers and on the news in Japan, they are described as savages and ruffians. Any time an American Soldier wanders off-base and commits even a minor offense it's front page news. Iori doesn't know if this is or isn't warranted, but she's personally met with members of the British SAS and she'd never been so constantly flattered in her entire life. Many areas around the world have deteriorated to the point that they aren't safe, and it broke her heart, but some of the places she'd visited in her early childhood she can no longer return. Very well did Iori understand the importance of an armed military, even if many did not.

"Tradition is very important in all branches of service in every country," he continued. "My guess is that they keep it that way so the soldiers, wherever in the world they may be, don't forget what they were fighting for. Back during World War II the Allies and the Germans would cease-fire on Christmas, and I've even heard stories that they'd get together that night and sing Silent Night, only to fight each other again the next day. The Marine Corps Ball is observed nearly religiously. I don't know it's history, but I do know it's important."

Noah and that man seemed to be wrapping up. They continue to talk but they are walking in their direction. As soon as Jordan noticed this he stood and Iori shortly followed.

Actually, know that Iori noticed it, Noah and this man almost seemed to be a reflection of Jordan and herself. Iori and Noah had similar builds, while Jordan and the man looked alike as well. Clearly there were vast age differences between the groups, but there was some kind of factor that was shared.

Noah was first to speak, "Okay everybody, we're just about wrapped up here. I'd like to introduce Lieutenant Colonel Tom Shazier."

The man stepped forward, towards Iori, "It's a pleasure to meet you Ma'am." Tom lowers himself to a knee, takes her hand, and kisses it. Because it came so unexpectedly, she nearly immediately turned beat-red. Next he turns to Jordan and extends his hand, "And Mr. Huntsman."

He shakes, "Likewise."

"Where did you serve?"

Jordan freezes, quite visibly disturbed by the question. His eyes go wide and his free hand begins to tremble. He hides it behind his body, but from Iori's position she can see it clearly. Quickly does he try to recompose himself, but everyone easily noticed that reaction.

"I never enlisted."

Tom seemed to be quite confused and reactively says, "Are you sure? I could have sworn," but then stops himself. Then he flinches as if an answer dawns upon him, "Oh, my mistake." After they release their grips, Tom seems nervous as if looking for something to distract this conversation. He turns to Iori, "So I hear your putting on a concert. Y'know, there are quite a few of these boys here who served in Okinawa, Iwakuni, and Camp Fuji. I'm sure they'd love to come see ya."

Communications were always important, and while it was in an unexpected place, it was Iori's duty increase her fan-base and sell as many tickets as possible. Now, what should she choose to say to utilize this opportunity perfectly?

"We would love to perform for them! There are two others in our group, and they're both as charming as I am."

Colonel Tom laughs, "Yeah I bet. Listen, it was nice meeting you two. I got to get going. Hope to see you again."

Iori waves as he exits out of the wide double doors and disappears down the long hallway.

"Let's talk in my office," Noah invites them. "We can sit and relax, and discuss everything we'll need to proceed."

* * *

><p><em>I had planned for chapter 10 to be longer than this, but by the time I finished it was way the heck too long. I had to split it into 3 chapters. 11 should be up after I proofread, but I think I'll hold up on 12. Let you guys wallow in anticipation for a bit. Hehehe...<em>

~_Kyle Castorena_


	11. 11 The Devil

Chapter 11

The Devil

Noah leads the group further down the halls, talking as they walk.

"From what I hear you've been separated from your group. All you know is that you're playing here in Vegas Friday night, but you don't know where. Am I correct so far?"

They reached an office-like door with Noah's name labeled on a plate. The woman opens the door to allow them in.

"Thank you. Yes, that's just about it."

After both are inside, "Well, that sure is a dilemma."

Led to an inner office, Noah offers them chairs while she takes a seat behind her desk.

"Is there anyone that you can contact? Say, anyone from your office or maybe your parents?"

There was, but she would only call her father as a last resort, "No. I kept all of my contacts on my phone, and my phone's with my luggage with my friends. All I have are the clothes on my back and Usa-chan." Iori found it a bit strange, but nobody had said a word about her stuffed rabbit all day. Normally she'd get a question or two about it from staff working on whatever program or shoot she was doing. Maybe it was a Vegas thing to not ask too many questions.

"I see. That certainly is a problem. We live in a world that you can't get anything done if you aren't in contact with people. Not being able to talk to anybody is the same as having your arms and legs tied. Communication is the most important of all human abilities. The more people we know and can speak with, the further ahead we can travel. Not being able to get a hold of anyone you know is going to make this process very difficult. To be able to further help you reach your friends, I'm going to need to know more about you."

Something was striking Iori as odd, but she couldn't put her finger on it. As though there was a yellow caution flag about, she was becoming nervous that there might be a hazard from any direction. The cause of this sensation was uncertain. Looking towards Jordan, all he did was motion to her with his chin to "go ahead."

"Well, what do you want to know?"

"Let's start with your group."

"Okay. We are called Ryuuguu Komachi, and we," she proceeded to tell her about her band mates and Ritsuko. "We work for 765 Pro-" "Our concert was-" "Our flight-" "When we landed in Vegas-"

"Wait," Jordan interrupted, "your company hired a translator?"

"Uh, yeah. He was a really creepy guy and I didn't like him. Didn't I mention it?"

Jordan, who'd been neutral faced ever since he first noticed the men in the USMC uniforms, was finally showing signs of life. Leaning forward and placing his hand over his chin, it was clear he was deep in thought. Iori was growing increasingly concerned, but before she could give Jordan any more attention, Noah chimed in.

"Can you continue please?"

"Oh, okay. Well, after I left the airport we-" "That's when Jordan-" "In the morning we met with Vanessa-" "And here we are."

From start to finish, all of Iori's tale took a little over ten minutes. All the while Noah listened closely and intently. While she was talking, Iori kept glancing over to her companion, who at a point finished with his contemplation and rejoined the group. However, his attention was focused not on Iori's story, but on Noah. Analyzing her intensely, it seemed like he was sizing her up in a card game; searching endlessly for a tell that would reveal her bluff.

"I'm getting the gist of what's happened," Noah explains, "so in order to put myself in your company's shoes, there are a few things I'd like you to go into more detail. You said that your father brought the proposal to your President Takagi, correct. What exactly is the relationship between those two, and what is it your father does."

It almost seemed like she wasn't asking a question, but that must have just been Iori's imagination. For the most part, Iori wanted to skip talking about her family if she could, but maybe some of her father's actions might have left a hint to where her friends might be. After all, Ryuuguu Komachi only got this opportunity because a previous show had been canceled. Certainly such an event would have left a ripple in the Vegas community. She guessed that would be a good place to start.

"My father is-"

Jordan suddenly coughed, surprising everyone as it boomed loudly in this enclosed office. Then he coughed again. Again, except now he clutched his chest and bent over in his chair. Actually, it didn't sound as if he was coughing, but choking. Iori shouted as she rose from her chair, but Jordan rose his hand as to stop her.

"Is everything alright?" this was the first time that Noah actually regarded the man.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. It's my heart, arrhythmia. Irregular heartbeat. It suddenly starts going fast and slow, and I can't breath. Just give me a few minutes and I'll be fine. But," and he almost sounded shy about it, "can you take me to the bathroom? I don't think I can make it on my own."

Iori rushed to Jordan's side, but he simply waved her off.

"You might as well stay here, there's no way you'll be able to support my weight."

"Don't worry," Noah said. "I can take him. I have two older brothers so I'm stronger than I look."

Jordan thanked her graciously and leaned against Noah's shoulder after she passed from around her desk. The least Iori could do was open the door as they made their way out. It looked extremely awkward that a man as large as he was leaning over the small Noah's shoulder, but she managed his weight well. However, their pace was still as slow as a snail, and it would take them forever to reach the bathroom. Iori could hear the pair making small talk, but decided she couldn't listen to his pathetic voice after such an episode. For all she knew he was the perfect picture of health. Seeing him so battered was perhaps hurting her heart more than his attack. She let the door close behind her and returned to her seat in the office.

Something immediately caught her eye. Sitting perfectly center on the empty chair to her side, previously Jordan's seat, was his cellphone. Could it have fallen out of his pocket during his episode? But then Iori remembered that he carried it in a leather case on his belt, so falling out would have been very difficult. This was strange. All Iori could think to do was pick it up.

There were no buttons on the phone, only a large glass touch-screen that would have facilitated all it's functions. However, the moment she touched the phone it's blank screen lit up, revealing what appeared to be a text message that Jordan had been previously writing.

It read:

**Noah playin you.**

Iori gasps, then looks around quickly to make sure nobody else was watching her. Of course she was alone. Just as she started to ponder if that heart attack was all an act upon Jordan's part, she then shook her head to drive away all distracting thoughts. No wasn't the time. This message he'd left for her must have been important. It was imperative that she read this completely while she was still alone.

Iori continued:

**Noah playin you. Know concerts local. Wants something so wont tell. Cant explain now. I have all pieces. If trust me, get out of there sneaky, and follow cashier once downstairs. If not, Noah will help, but for price.**

How had he typed this entire message without any of the girl's noticing? But, it seemed very much like something he would do. The grammar and vocabulary might have been atrocious, but his theme was clear; Noah's lying to them and Jordan knows how to find the concert. However, for a price would Noah disclose the truth. What would be that price? It seemed that Jordan knew, but in a quick message he couldn't go into detail.

There was no time for debate. If Noah returned while Jordan was away, she wouldn't be able to escape. Exactly what dangers she might be facing Iori didn't know, but she trusted Jordan's judgment and would do as he asked.

Before she left, she saw that Jordan had left his backpack behind. It probably wasn't on purpose. Likely he couldn't think of a good reason to bring it with him without arousing suspicion. Whatever the case, Iori would take it with her.

Except that it was heavy! What in the world was he keeping in here! She couldn't believe she'd forgotten how heavy it was!

Opening the door and popping her head outside, Iori couldn't detect a single soul's presence. Swiftly she swung herself outside and gently closed the door behind her, allowing nothing more than a whisper to be emitted. The flooring was carpet, so her footfalls shouldn't produce much sound. Iori wasn't one for these kinds of stealth exploits, but she learned a thing or two from the Futami twins. Loving to play pranks, being about to move about unheard and unseen was key in their efforts for practical jokes. Though their motions were often exaggerated, they've more then once gotten the jump on the staff of 765 Pro. Mimicking what she'd observed that worked, Iori was able to move forward.

Noah's office was at the end of a long hall that spiraled around some of the smaller conference rooms. Right now it was quiet, but Iori couldn't expect it to stay that way when they had a booked house. There were muffled sounds of some people moving about, but she couldn't disclose the location of any of them. All she could do was move forward.

Not very far off, Iori noticed a big problem; there was only one path to make it out of Noah's office. That meant sooner or latter the two would cross. Iori doubted Jordan had the gall to ask the woman to come with him into the bathroom, so Iori couldn't expect that he'd be able to keep her completely distracted while the girl made her escape. There must have been a place for her to hide so she could allow the woman to pass. Then it came to her, the place so large that it could have hid an elephant. The ballroom.

To reach the ballroom was only another turn and hallway away. Iori began to hasten her pace as she knew that Noah must have been returning. Slow and steady started to feel as if it was doing more harm then good, so she instead began walking at a brisk pace. A creeping sense of danger began to rise in the pit of her stomach, and maybe she was even panicking a little. All she knew for certain was that she needed to _move faster_.

Uneventfully she made it to the ballroom, but by no means had she adverted a crisis. Now there were people working for tomorrow night's event. Two were handling a giant ladder and heading for a projector that was suspended from the ceiling. There were a couple in white uniforms standing in a doorway on the far left side of the room. That must have been a kitchen. If the room were not so massive they might have noticed her the moment she entered, but then again these men weren't the ones she was hiding from. They were perhaps too busy to care about a young girl wandering around. Still, the less attention she draws to herself the better.

Suddenly Iori could hear the "clomp clomp" of someone wearing heels. Immediately she thought of Noah and rushed inside the ballroom looking for a hiding spot. This was certainly a large room, but it was a large empty room. There wasn't really anywhere to hide. Except that there were rows of folding chairs leaned against the wall. Extending outward about two meters, in the space between two rows there was an unnatural shadow cast about them. Obviously this had to do with the lighting of the ballroom, and there was no better place that Iori could think to hide. As quickly as she can she finds a row that would be large enough for her and the backpack to fit and she sets herself down.

Finally she breathes again and allows herself to calm down. She can't hear the sounds of footsteps anymore, but even if someone was marching through the hallway with combat boots it wouldn't carry into the ballroom. How long will Iori have to stay before she knows it's safe to move?

"Is there a problem?" came a young and nasally voice. There was no doubt, it was Noah.

Iori covered her mouth in order to stifle a yelp. Even though she was under the cover of darkness, there was still plenty she could see. From the corner of her allowable vision she could see the young professional approach the two men with the ladder.

"Yeah. The projector. Doesn't it seem too dim?"

Iori followed the light and saw a golden emblem resembling a globe, anchor, and bird, over a red backdrop projected on a screen. It might have been because of the room's lighting, but it did look dull.

"I think you're right," Noah answered back. "Check the other one while you're at it. We have spare bulbs, right?"

They were just about ready to set up the ladder, "Yeah, two."

"Maybe we should go ahead and just change them both out. Jim's up there right? Can you tell him to throw the other on screen?"

"Gotcha." The lead man takes the radio from his hip and says, "Jim, boss wants you to throw the logo back on screen."

There was static and what sounded like a confirmation.

Iori noticed another image suddenly appear on the far wall directly ahead of her. Before at a crouch, the young pop idol in hiding dropped to the floor. While everyone's attention was on the image projected on the wall, it was still a far wall that should have left Iori completely hidden. Now the focus was on one much closer, and if they decided to turn around after looking it over Iori would completely be in view. She was in a shadow, but it wasn't exactly pitch darkness.

Iori can see Noah walking about 25 meters directly ahead of her. The young professional is looking over the image produced by the projector very carefully. A heartbeat begins to ring in Iori's ear and she can feel beads of sweat rolling down her cheeks. Soon she might go through what Jordan had been previously faking. Nervousness began to grow as a cold chill in her chest and it felt like her teeth were rattling. Helpless to act, all she could do was wait.

"That seems good," Noah declares. "We're not going to use it again for a while after tomorrow night, so just make sure to check it again the next time!"

"Got it! Jim, kill it."

Noah continues to stare until the image dims and quickly fades to nothing. For a once over, she glances over to the two men at the ladder and nods to herself. Then she turns around and heads for the doorway.

At this point Iori can see directly into Noah's hazel eyes. If that was true for the one in hiding, then so it must be true for the one in the open. Iori is still, deathly still, to keep from doing anything that might perk Noah's attention. From Noah's perspective, the strange mass crumpled on the floor wasn't in her direct line of sight, but neither was it in a blind corner. Someone as attentive as Jordan would have likely noticed it immediately, and for the one those men called "boss," she figured she'd be equally so. However, Noah kept walking without giving the slightest hint that she noticed something amiss. In a few short moments she's out of view, and not much longer than that, she's out of the room.

Iori couldn't take it any more. Crawling to the edge of the shadow, she peeks from left to right. The two men in white at the door to the kitchen are gone, and the other two are too busy with the ladder and projector. Not caring if she's noticed at this point, Iori pushes herself up and leaves as quickly as she can.

Noah had to have already turned the corner for the two long hallways back, and would discover her guest missing in about a minute and a half. Iori cared for nothing but speed at this point and quickly retraced her steps that led back to the escalator. She didn't even wave back to the secretary as she took her leave, thought with how fast the girl was moving she might not have noticed.

The sudden noise of the casino floor felt like a blast of cold air. Fled from enemy territory, she was once again in neutral country where no patrols could reach. For a moment she leaned against a nearby wall and took a breath. Never before had she been so on-edge. Not even confronting her father was as bad as this. Then she started to wonder if all that effort was necessary. After all, couldn't she just have apologized and left? It wasn't like her life was in danger.

Iori couldn't help herself but laugh. Her actions were near pointless and completely exaggerated. But it was thrilling and even fun. Words spoken by Jordan repeated themselves in her head,_ If you ain't having fun, you're doing something wrong_. She laughs even harder, to the point her sides hurt.

* * *

><p><em>Here's part 2 to chapter 10, but I guess I'll go ahead and call it chapter 11. Wow, this almost feels like I'm wrapping up a season for a show. In chapter 12 we'll have the climax, and 13 will be the conclusion with the cliffhanger ending. All of this will leave you wanting more, and you'll curse the entire year for make you wait for a season 2.<em>

_..._

_Okay_,_ so that's not really how it's going to go down, but I do want to give you time to digest this chapter's pointless silliness before delivering 12. Chapter 12 is too pivotal to simply post immediately after a 2 chapter blitz. If I had planned this better I would have put chapter 10 up a few days ago, 11 today, and 12 tomorrow, but I was on a writing warpath and simply exceeded my expectations. For those of you who write yourself, you simply love days like this. I'd like to keep up this pace, but I know the momentum won't last. Ah well, strike while the iron's hot and all that._

~_Kyle Castorena_


	12. 12 The Answer

Chapter 12

The Answer

They had a meeting area set in advance, and it was doing Iori no good simply sitting around. Directly ahead of her, against the wall she was currently leaning, was the cashier. His message said to follow this path around the corner. Following his words, on her way she passed another waitress in one of those skimpy outfits. For a moment she pondered wearing one of those herself, and now it didn't seem like a bad idea. Maybe she could wear one of those feathery outfits and even do those high kicks, but certainly she wasn't old enough to be in one of _those_ shows. Regardless, it might be fun. One of these days.

Turning the corner, it isn't long before she finds a seating area. There are many hotel guests lounged about on their laptops. Jordan sticks out like a sore thumb.

Before in quiet solace, he immediately perks up upon seeing Iori. He stands and waves her over.

"For a second I thought you would have stuck with that Noah chick."

By calling someone "chick" it was clear he had very little respect towards the woman. Certainly Iori would be discovering why in due process.

"What, were you worried I'd leave you alone? It's so obvious the melancholy you'd be in without me."

He takes no offense to her teasing, and in fact, makes no rebuttal. By simply looking at her and smiling, Jordan's basically acknowledging her accusations. Iori suddenly realizes what's being implied and blushes furiously. Maybe the only time a man had looked at her like that was on the day she was born, but she'd never know the expression her father might have made when he saw his daughter for the very first time.

"Now," Jordan's words are powerful enough to break apart an iceberg, "let's find you your friends."

In the wait time for his computer to start up, Jordan handed Iori 20 dollars and told her to get them something to eat. This small lounge is adjoined by a coffee and confectionary stand. Though he never told her what to order for himself, upon spying some of the pastries she chooses with near-certainty what she believes were his favorites.

By the time everything's bought and paid for, Jordan's already on the internet. Well past lunch and encroaching dinner, this was only going to be a light snack to hold them over. And with how certain Jordan was of himself (and Iori was certain as well) they'd soon be on the move towards their final destination. All they need is a bit more fuel for their final leg.

Iori sat a blueberry muffin and a bottle of cranberry juice on the table before them. For a moment Jordan had to stop his furious typing to notice her choice. All he did next was look over to her and extort a halfhearted laugh.

"Nihihihi~" she returned the favor for him being oh-so-honest a moment ago. "How did you know Noah already knew where my concert is?"

As he's browsing through web pages, "Well, first was her thick sense of superiority. That look she was giving me, it was 'I'm better than you.' At first I thought she was just being uppity, but then I remembered Colonel Shazier. He said that a few of his guys would like to see your concert, but he didn't ask where it was or show any concern that you didn't know yourself. Noah must have already told him, seeing that she already knew that a lot of Marines get stationed in Japan. It'd be no surprise if you have a few fans amongst their ranks, so she was being a good little hostess and informing them of events that they'd enjoy."

That might have been the nagging feeling she had earlier. Though it doesn't explain why she would drag things out and lie to them.

"Actually, it's not very difficult to image. Noah's an Event Coordinator. Now, how does one get clients to come to them in that line of work? The answer is they don't, potential clients will go wherever they want to go. It's the casinos themselves that determine favorablity over the others. It would be near-impossible to change someone's mind considering they're deciding almost completely by their personal tastes. Like trying to sell an orange to someone who wants an apple. All she can really do is sit and wait for clients to come to her.

"However, what she can do is network. Let people learn her name and how good she works. A good reputation is perhaps the best advertisement you can get. Also, having people owe you favors. Scratch my back and I'll scratch yours. Something I noticed when we met her, she addressed you as 'Minase Iori.' Don't you address yourself as Iori Minase?"

Iori explained, "Minase is my family name. In Japan it's customary to introduce yourself with your family name first."

"I thought so. Now, she formally addressed you, but she didn't even say my last name. Don't you think that's odd? Also, didn't she seem overly interested in learning about your family?"

"My family?" Of course Iori knew how influential her family could be, but how could Noah know...and then she finally put everything together. "She _knew_ me!"

"Exactly! She knew about the concert, knew about you, and knew about your family all before we met her. She was dragging this thing out so your father's company would owe her a favor. She was trying to extort you into increasing her own business!"

Iori wanted to say that anger welled up from inside of her, but it simply didn't. More than a time or two had she ran into somebody who wanted to befriend her in order to exploit her family's wealth. This time however, no emotions really sprouted forth. It was like she didn't care.

Regardless, that didn't change the fact that Noah had the answer while they are still in the dark. Jordan was working on his computer, but Iori couldn't see what he was doing. The man was sitting in a large sofa seat with wide armrests. Placing herself on one of those armrests, she sat down close and placed her hand on his shoulder so she could lean in and see.

"Take a look at this," Jordan cycled the widow back to a previously opened tab. It was a Wanted notice for a Japanese-English interpreter. It was signed **K. Otonashi**. "Look familiar?"

Eyes gone wide, she couldn't believe what she was seeing. "This is it! This is it this is it this is it! We can ask her!"

"Hold on a second," he stopped her. "Didn't you notice? Look at the grammar."

Now that he mentioned it, it was bad.

"I don't think she knows English, or at least as well as she thinks she does. If I send her an e-mail she might need to have it translated, write a response, and have it translated back. That could take a couple of hours."

Iori knew that Otonashi loved The Blues and Jazz music, and that she listened to the genre in English, but she may not speak a word of it herself. It wasn't impossible.

"But shouldn't we send one anyway?"

"If we need to. _That's_ Plan B. Plan A is still to find it ourselves. Now, look at these." He begins cycling through pictures. "Do you recognize any of these people?"

All were men in women elder in age. Clean cut and in nice suits. But Iori had to shake her head and every picture they cycled through. At the end there wasn't a single confirmation.

"What gives?" Jordan said. "That was every Japanese interpreter I could find."

Iori hung her head. In the end they'd have to contact Otonashi and wait for her to give them a reply. But how long would that take? Iori was starting to understand Jordan's reluctance to call upon others for the answer. It felt like she was being defeated.

But every profile Jordan showed was of an older person. Their interpreter was a young guy, probably not even 20. All those people were easily over 30 or older. How did his and Otonashi's searches differ?

Then she noticed something on the last remaining profile, "Hold on! What's that!"

"Hmm?" Jordan looked. "'Education: UNLV?' The University of Nevada Las Vegas."

"He was wearing a sweater with those letters on them."

Jordan hmph'ed, "So he was a UNLV student." For a moment he sat in silence, but then suddenly started up, "No! He's stilla UNLV student!"

Back at the search engine, his fingers blurred at the speed of light, furiously typing away keywords. Iori was amazed. She knew Ritsuko and Otonashi were fast typers, but Jordan would have blown them away. This must have been the same speed he typed that secret text into his phone. In little time he'd opened several pages under new tabs.

"Anyone?"

Now instead of a picture of a single person, he brought up pictures of groups of people. On the third image,

"That's him!"

Jordan scrolled down a little bit, "Richie Young?"

The name was immediately familiar, "Yes!"

Before he turned away to a new page, Iori spotted the website they were currently visiting. _The Anime Club of UNLV_.

Next up were the social networking sites. In no-time-flat his personal page was retrieved. His last status update, from 2 days ago, told them everything in big bold letter.

Iori almost couldn't breathe, "Is that it?" came out in a mumbled whisper.

Cycling away, Jordan brought up another page, the page of the aforementioned casino and hotel. After clicking "Entertainment," then "Concerts," and scrolling down the page...

There it was.

Ryuuguu Komachi.

Iori dead center. Ami to her left. Azusa to her right. They were doing their pose at the end of Smokey Thrill.

Suddenly her vision blurred and she was forced to blink. Feeling the cold sensation roll down her face, Iori then knew that she had started to cry. What would have normally been her characteristically strong defense never had a chance. There was no brushing it off, pretending it didn't happen, or trying to explain it was something that it wasn't. She couldn't create an excuse. Openly she was crying, slight sobs escaping whenever she was trying to breath. For only a brief moment did she manage to open her eyes. She met Jordan's stare. What kind of expression he was making, if he had his signature quaint little smile, she couldn't tell. One look sent a wave of emotion washing over her. She lunged over the chair and embraced him tightly, crying tears of joy onto his shoulder. How he responded? Iori only felt his large soft hand rest itself on the top of her head. He said nothing. Motioned nothing. Simply sat and waited for her to finish. He was kind of like a lame duck.

In time she recovered, using the napkins he presented to her to dry her eyes. When she was well enough to see, she saw that at some point he'd eaten his muffin. Iori couldn't help but laugh. A young, beautiful girl was crying on his shoulder, and here he was eating. She wished she could have stepped outside herself and seen it, but the image in her head was as clear as day. It made her laugh again.

"Well then," he said, closing up his laptop. "Shall we go?"

With her voice as clear as it's ever been, she said, "Yes!"

* * *

><p><em>And finally, we have made it to this point. As I post this, I've already finished chapter 13, and I must say, I'm going too darn fast. I don't know what's been up with me lately, but I've been on a roll. If this keeps up, I'm just going to keep flooding you with chapters until <em>_I burn myself out or I finish with this story. Whatever the case, we're not done yet so expect more to come._

_~Kyle Castorena_


	13. 13 Milestone

Chapter 13

Milestone

On the cab ride towards their final destination, Jordan had to explain a few things. First off, their concert wasn't in Las Vegas, but the neighboring city of Henderson. Assuring her that just because it wasn't on The Strip didn't mean it wasn't a major venue. Outside the city limits there are high class hotels that offer luxury while catering to those who wish to avoid the hectic pace of Las Vegas Boulevard. This was one such hotel. Easily could this explain why his searches yielded no results. He'd never been looking in the right place to begin with!

Though being outside of the City of Las Vegas was pretty much only a technicality. Everyone still considers these outsider hotels as much of Vegas as everything else. Foot traffic might not have been as high, but their attendance and gambling income easily rivaled the major casinos, and most of the time it was these out of the way casinos that yielded higher percentages of profit. And not to belittle their live shows either. Legends such as BB King, Styx, and George Thorogood have all played in in their concert halls. As far as Ryuuguu Komachi's show would go, this was as Las Vegas as it gets.

By the time Jordan finished explaining, they still hadn't arrived. At some point they had gotten on a freeway and were traveling at a high speed, but they still weren't there. Iori had lost track of time, but she was sure they'd traveled far. Looking back she could see those large world famous hotels as shadows of their former selves. Exactly how far removed were these hotels that Jordan was talking about?

Suddenly they turn. In what seemed like a normal suburban neighborhood, there was a quaint little mall done in rustic 1950s San Francisco architecture. There were many brick structures, stone walkways, and even a trolley that circled around the premises. Unfortunately this was not their destination.

Tucked away behind the mall was a building that could have been mistaken for one of the headliner's private villas. At first Iori thought they were mistaken when they turned in a driveway, but sure enough there was a sign that matched with what they'd seen on the internet. Mentally she kicked herself so as not to be so judgmental.

As if reading her mind, "Wait till you see the pool," Jordan told her.

Every time he said, "Wait till you see," something spectacular awaited. This was something to look forward to.

Begrudgingly Jordan handed the cab driver his fare and they stood before the entryway of the casino.

"Of course it had to be way out here," he mumbled.

Actually, the total for their ride was about the same as when she first left the airport. Certainly it helped when you had someone who knew the local roads and when a driver is trying to gyp you. Still, he didn't look too happy to see that amount of money go. Now that she thought about it, she had no idea about his financial status. Jordan didn't seem to be rolling in money, and one really couldn't tell from the furnishings of his apartment. Even further, she had no idea what was, or if he even had, a job.

"Are you ready?"

It was a simple question. Was she ready? Iori should have been. After all, wasn't this the moment she'd been waiting for all this time? Now that she thought about it, it hadn't even been an entire day since she last saw Ami, Azusa, and Ritsuko. Not even 24 hours. It felt like so long, but at the same time, it went by so fast. This man, her companion, she'd gotten to know so well. Had any person made this big of an impression on her in this little time spent together? Very unlikely. Still, this life was full of meetings and departures. Her time with Jordan was drawing near it's end. Of course she'd be sad, but their fellowship was a temporary one. It had always been from the start. There was much to be appreciative for; she'd never would have made it this far without him. However, she was at a short of words to express her gratitude. Iori couldn't even begin to construct the words of parting that would rapidly come.

"Come on, don't be like that," Jordan huffed, as if he knew just about everything. "We only know the concert is here. Your friends might even be staying at a different hotel."

Actually, he had a point. This might not be the last leg of their journey together. There was even a dark voice deep inside that wished this were the case, that everyone was in another hotel and that their journey together could continue.

"Yeah," her voice was noticeably uneasy, "let's go see."

Again she was hit by a sense of deja vu when she stepped inside. Close enough were the chimes of the casino games, scattered artwork hung upon the walls, and a tiled entryway that lead to a carpeted main floor. However, if there was one thing that she would give special notice, it was the ceiling. Much of the focus of the decor went into the ceiling. There were large chandeliers, highly detailed archways, and hand painted designs. Originally she had the impression that this was a mansion, and the more she walked around within the more this seemed to portray. It was like they modeled the entire hotel after a member of the Borgias. Actually, Iori herself had been in a manor or two similar to this.

While Iori was looking around, Jordan managed to get ahead of her. Currently he was waiting in line at Check-In. They knew the concert was here, but were her friends? There was only one way to find out. Iori joined him.

There was a bit of a line through which they had to wait. Certainly an anti-climatic climax this was.

When the receptionist saw to them, Jordan spoke out, "Hi, we're not checking in, but we're here to see our friends and we can't remember the room number."

"Okay, if I can have the name of the one who made the reservation?"

Out of the four girls, one who was in charge was, "..."

Obviously, Jordan forgot, "Ritsuko Akizuki," Iori spoke on his behalf.

The woman typed away at her console. Them typed some more. Two or three very long minutes passed as if she were ignoring the pair and waiting for them to walk away.

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you their room number," was the result.

Both painful and a relief, Iori was just about to turn and walk away when Jordan, "I knew it! Listen, this little girl is Iori Minase, one of the band members of Ryuuguu Komachi! I know this is going to sound strange, but she got separated from everyone and has been looking for them for a whole day. I know you're supposed to protect the privacy of the artists that are going to play here, but we really must get her back to her friends!"

Unchanged was the expression on the receptionist's face. Truly it was her job to protect the VIPs while they were within their rooms and to keep any potential stalkers or those of ill-intent away. A time or two she might have heard that very excuse before. It was unfair to be upset with this woman because of her caution.

However, convincing her wasn't going to be that easy. Turning away from the guest she went back to her computer and typed away some more. More excruciatingly long minutes passed before she spoke again.

"Do you have a form of ID? Visa?"

"No," Iori spoke, "all my luggage was with my friends."

"Then I'm sorry. If you can't prove who you claim to be, I can't allow you to see them."

"For the love of," Jordan shouted, opening up his backpack and withdrawing his laptop. After pressing the power button it started immediately, having been put into Sleep Mode the last time it was used. Iori believe that he was expecting this to happen. In a matter of moments he brought up the casino's web page. "Here, see! This is who's playing Friday night. Look familiar?"

Taking slight offense to the man's tone, she did as was instructed and took a look at the picture. It was impossible to deny that the one pictured center and the girl who stood by the man's side were one-in-the-same. After confirming their story, she picked up the phone and dialed a number. After it rung a few times, she began to speak.

"Hello, this is the Front Desk. We have someone here who claims to be your band member. If you could please confirm the guest."

Clearly there was a pause on the other side of the line. For the first time the woman's brow furrowed as if she were at a loss.

"Hello? Is someone there?"

After another non-response she hung up and spoke something into her radio.

"If you would wait a moment," was perhaps as polite as she was going to get.

Again they waited. In time an older gentleman joined them. Perhaps getting close to 50, his hair was more then a little gray and what might have once been muscles were now well into sagging. He was wearing an off-beige uniform and a badge that clearly marked him as security.

Approaching the woman, he unceremoniously hailed, "What's up?"

Clearly the woman was irritated (to the amusement of Jordan and Iori) but she got to the point, "I need you to escort these two to the Tuscany suite on the seventh floor. There may be someone in the room, so can you check it out when you let them in?"

"Gotcha," he simply replied. Turning towards the two, "Follow me."

Leading them to the elevators, there was a slight limp in his walk, "Get locked out of your room or something?"

"Or something," Jordan replied.

"Oh wait, isn't _that_ room the one where those Asian girl-singers are staying? Heard they've been running all around looking for one of them that got lost. Isn't that you?"

This was the first time she's had to speak in a while, so she was caught a little by surprise, "Um, yes sir."

"So polite. Oh! And she speaks English! I tell ya, we were having a big ol' mess trying to figure out what they were saying with all that hollarin' they were doin'. That interpreter they had with them must have had a stroke tryin to keep up with em." They made it to the elevator. "Well, it's good that you were the one to get lost. You would have had a heck of a time trying to find this place if you couldn't speak any English."

Iori's saving grace. Well, that and Jordan.

Once inside the elevator the security guard pushes the button for the seventh floor. Iori noticed something. Every time she's stayed at a hotel while with her family, they've always need a key card to even access the floor for their room. There was the same setup here, but with only being on the seventh floor they didn't even bother to add those additional security measures. Must have been the best 765 could afford.

As the elevator gradually made it's way to it's floor, the security couldn't stop finding things to talk about, "You two don't look related, so how did you get dragged into this mess?"

Directed towards Jordan, he responds, "You ever see a starving dog on the side of the road, give it something to eat, and it follows you everywhere?"

"That's not what happened!" Iori shouts. "Listen! I tried to turn him away, but he was so INSISTANT that I had to let him help me!"

"And what was the first thing I did?"

"Paid the cab fare?"

"After that!"

"Um, you bought me dinner."

"See!" Jordan raises his voice in victory. "Hasn't left me since!"

They arrived on their floor.

The security guard is laughing in a big, loud, horse voice, "Gawd, you two are badgerin like an old married couple. It's alright, I'm not too nosy. You don't have to tell me all the particulars. What happens in Vegas and all that."

Iori isn't exactly sure what he meant, but Jordan gritted his teeth as if he'd just been hit in the gut. But this older man compared them to a married couple. The idea made her slightly bashful.

"Why do they have to make these aisles so damn long," the security guard grunts.

Had the man not walked so slow, they would have been there already, but his limp slowed his pace drastically. It was clear Jordan was becoming impatient, but there wasn't much that could be done about the situation. Nearly an hour had passed since they first stepped foot into this hotel, and only now did they make it to their room.

"Here we go." He knocks on the door. "Security! He got yer girly here wantin to see ya!"

Something was obviously moving around inside, but it wasn't making any vocal sounds.

Iori was about to shout something to whomever was inside, but the security guard stepped before her before she could. In that moment something changed about him. No longer was he some happy-go-lucky out of shape badge and whistle, but a shadow of a strong man from ages past. He placed a hand on his sidearm that was resting at his hip and slid a card into the lock.

"I'm coming in!"

Opening the door neither cautiously or hastily, he had a foot inside the room before the figure standing before him could fall on her backside.

"Aiiieee!" she fell on her backside.

Removing his hand from the gun, he realized that this person was no threat. The girl was barely a teenager, dressed in some stylish clothes that made one guess that she was trying to look older than she really was. Her short brown hair was tied to one side.

"Ami!" Iori shouted.

Upon hearing that voice, Ami froze. Now unconcerned with the intruder that was forcing his way into her room, the recognition of the smallest of the group made the girl nearly start to cry outright. The security guard backed his way out of the room and gave way to Iori. He made a motion as if he were tipping his hat to Jordan, and Jordan waved him off.

"Iori!" Ami shouted in return. Picking herself off the floor she rushed her group leader and nearly tackled her in a hug. "(Iori, we were so worried about you! Where have you been! What happened!)"

Hearing Japanese for the first time in what felt like forever, she almost lost control and started crying herself, "(I can explain all that later. Where's everyone else?)"

Finally releasing herself from Iori, "(Ritsuko, Azusa, and Richie are all out looking for you. They told me to stay here just in case you came here on your own.)"

Apparently they had some faith that Iori could make it back on her own.

"(Well, let's get them back here. I'm found, after all)."

"(Yeah, but, who is that? He's kind of creepy standing there.)"

Iori had nearly forgot. Jordan, who speaks no Japanese, had been completely left out of the conversation. For someone who held no shame and could say anything, anytime, to anyone, this must have been torture. It was a dishonor she would allow to continue no further.

"(This is Jordan Huntsman. He's the one who helped me here.)"

Just then, something struck her as odd. Thinking about his personality, the moment Iori was reunited with someone in her group, she'd fully expect him to slip away without even sticking around to be thanked. To appear and vanish like the wind completely seemed like his style. If this were a movie or novel, that's exactly what would have happened. Completely unselfish and charitable. Yet he stuck around.

"Uh, I thought I heard my name?" the sound of his voice reminds Iori that he's still here.

"Yes. I was introducing you. This is Ami Futami, the youngest member of Ryuuguu Komachi."

"Wow, and here I thought you were making the whole thing up. I guess you really are an idol singer."

Clearly he was being facetious. A single tear escaped from the corner of her eye, and she wiped it away as soon as she noticed. He was planning on sticking around, and it made her incredibly happy.

"Of course I was telling the truth! An amazingly cute and pure angel such as myself is incapable of telling lies!"

"I guess even a Little Devil will mix in the truth every once and in while when it's convenient for her."

"What did you-" Iori halted when she heard someone speaking behind her.

It was Ami and she was on her cellphone, "(Iori's here! And she brought back an older boyfriend!)"

"(He's not my boyfriend!)"


	14. 14 The Final Answer

Chapter 14

The Final Answer

Ritsuko, Azusa, and their interpreter Richie weren't very far away. It took half an hour from when they received the call from Ami to turn around and step foot inside the hotel. In that time Ami explained in-brief what was transpiring while their leader was missing. Even though it wasn't completely necessary, Iori translated into English so Jordan wouldn't be bored sitting around.

From the airport they went straight to the hotel. Because of the cramped taxi ride, and all the excitement of visiting a new country, none had been able to keep an eye on Iori's cab to make sure it didn't take a wrong turn. By the time they made it to the hotel they had no idea that their friend was lost. While Ritsuko, Ami, and Richie were checking into the hotel, Azusa waited for Iori's taxi to arrive. It never did.

Once they realized that something was terribly wrong, they were in a panic as what to do next. They tried calling her cellphone, but it was quickly discovered that Iori's purse and nearly all her belongings were in their possession. At this point it was getting very late and they needed time to calm down and formulate a decisive plan. They brought everything to their room and settled down. It was very late and their options were excruciatingly limited. Richie, the local and interpreter, proved to be of little help. Young and inexperienced, he had few ideas to bring to the table. All he could suggest was to go to the police.

Iori took time to remember that Jordan made the same suggestion, only he called them Metro.

Richie's suggestion turned out to be a waste of time. As explained over the phone, they couldn't file a Missing Persons Report for a lost tourist that's been gone for only a few hours. Not even would they bother posting an All Points Bulletin to be on the lookout for a lost Asian 15-year-old. Simply was there a lack of manpower to begin a search for every tourist that took a wrong turn and got lost. Only when they've been gone for several days would they escalate the case and actually commit resources to the search. Until then, the only thing they could do was either search themselves, or wait for Iori to find them. While Metro couldn't do anything for them, their advice was perhaps the best that could be given.

Jordan took a moment to intrude on the explanation. What undoubtedly was on Iori's mind was that if she had gone to Metro, and Ritsuko in-fact called them, wouldn't they have been able to quickly link the two together? The answer was no. Several police stations are littered throughout Las Vegas Valley, and it would only be with great luck that the two would have chose to contact the same one. But even then, the Dispatcher would have to spread the information throughout the precinct and have the information flow back to her. It was a long-shot of it happening any time quickly, especially since there was so little distinct information to be passed around. Eventually they would have had her back with her friends, but eventually could have been a long time.

The hour was late and Richie couldn't be with them all night. As an interpreter his job was only to translate, and he couldn't be expected to help in the search other then giving advice (albeit useless advice). Resigned to be helpless, all they could do was hope for the best and retire for the night. They all knew that Iori spoke English, so perhaps she was resourceful enough to find a place to take shelter. It was that idea alone that allowed them to get any sleep that night.

The next day started late as they had to wait for Richie to arrive before they could begin their search. Once he did, they decided that Ami should stay behind while Ritsuko and Azusa would take the interpreter and begin a search. Ami didn't know what happened after that, but it was clear they didn't have any luck.

But Iori thought about it, and the group of Iori and Jordan, and the group of the three who were searching, were all on The Strip at the same time. Jordan explained this before and said that it would be very easy to miss each other even if they passed nearby. They very well might have happened, and at her time on the Strip she was so distracted by everything around her, she didn't remember a single face of anyone that walked by about their business. Now that she realized what the local predicted was exactly what happened, she truthful accepted that his course of action was indeed the very best. After all, only a single day had been sacrificed when what could have been a total disaster.

Shortly thereafter, there was a knock at the door.

Ritsuko and Azusa arrived with the same fanfare as Ami. Ritsuko tried to be stern, but the relief she felt overpowered any inclination to be the authoritative role model. Richie had since left their presence and employ.

Jordan sat quietly in a chair on the far side of the room and let them have their moment. His presence was almost nonexistent until the one wearing glasses nearly screamed when she finally saw him. Of course this made him cringe.

Realizing that she'd forgotten about him again, Iori made the introduction for the second time, "(This is the one who helped me when I was lost, Jordan Huntsman.)"

Hearing the phrase before, Jordan had an idea of what was said. He'd since stood on his feet and was approaching. "It's a pleasure to finally meet. I've heard a lot about you."

As he drew nearer Ritsuko unconsciously takes a step back. It seemed the appearance of this man had frightened her a bit.

Iori turned to Jordan as he announced himself, so she didn't see Ritsuko's reaction. As Iori was translating for him, she saw that her manager was further away then a moment ago. Her reaction was extremely rude considering what he has done, but she didn't get a moment to make a remark.

Jordan wouldn't allow the awkward social cue to drag out, so he turned to the taller pretty idol, "You must be Azusa. You're as beautiful as Iori's said."

Iori's eyebrow twitched when she heard him hitting on the eldest and most endowed of the group, so she didn't translate the "beautiful" part.

Azusa was withdrawn and cautious; somewhat confused about the presence of this strange and intimidating foreigner. Jordan's compliment was meant to calm her down a bit, but his reasoning was lost on his translator. In the end she wasn't comforted a bit.

With the introductions out of the way, and all of them being seated, Iori told the story of everything that's happened to her in the past 24 hours, especially including Jordan's vital contributions to her efforts. After the end they at least knew the reason for the man's presence, but the two older women were still slightly uneasy.

Ritsuko stepped up, and Iori translated, "(I feel that I must apologize. I have been terribly rude to someone who brought us all together. I am sorry,)" and she accompanied her apology with a bow.

Jordan tried to wave her off, "No, no, it's okay. I'm sure anyone would be scared if someone like me was waiting for them in their room. I just wanted to make sure Iori was returned safely, and everything would be okay if I were gone."

"(You really didn't have to go so far for our Iori, but thank you. You've been most generous and we cannot completely express our gratitude. If there is anything we could do for you, we surely will.)"

Iori was translating so quickly that she didn't process what Ritsuko was saying until after the fact. Her manager was offering Jordan a reward. Was that why he was sticking around? Did he want to be compensated for all the money he'd spent on getting her to this point? Surely it was within his right to be rewarded for his sacrifice, but that seemed completely uncharacteristic. Iori made a bet with herself, if he indeed accepts a reward, it would be:

"Y'know, we all must be getting a bit hungry. Why don't we go out for dinner?"

. . .

They almost went to a very expensive Steakhouse, but Jordan and Ritsuko (especially Jordan) wouldn't accept it even if Iori paid through her traveler's checks. 765 didn't have the funds for it, and Jordan was holding firm on principle. If he couldn't afford to eat there himself, he felt as though he was taking advantage of them. There was also an Italian restaurant, but that's what Iori ate last night. They skipped the oyster bar because Jordan couldn't stomach seafood, and neither the Japanese sushi nor the Chinese cuisine appealed to the foreigners. In the end they left the hotel and went through the neighboring mall. Jordan insisted that all this fanciness wouldn't really suit the occasion, and brought them all to an American Barbeque Smokehouse.

All but the youngest of the girls cried a silent tear in memorial of their diet.

But the food was good. So, so good...

Ritsuko and Azusa still had their reservations about Jordan, but the youngest of the group Ami started to take a shine to him. Whilst they dined he told them a brief history of Las Vegas: how it was merely a watering hole along the Old Spanish trail, to it's popularity before the advent of the railroad system, to it's resurgence with the construction of the Hoover Dam. Ami, who wasn't old enough to know the significance of the Manhattan Project, ate up the whole story. Even Iori was impressed by the amount of History he could recall offhand.

After dinner they thought they would have bid him final farewell, but Jordan insisted that there was one last thing he had to say, and he had to do it when they were in their room. Everyone was starting to grow concerned, but perhaps for very different reasons. Ritsuko and Azusa thought they might be dealing with another Richie, but Iori knew whatever he had to say must have been important. Once they returned to their room, Jordan became very serious and told Iori to translate, word for word to the best of her ability, everything he was about to say.

He begins by asking a simple, yet very important question, "Who did you hire to promote this concert?"

A mix of emotions flushes Ritsuko's face. Confusion, wonder, and a bit of apprehension made her a bit hesitant to answer the simple question. First of all, this was a private 765 Productions business matter, and Jordan was by no means entitled to receive an answer. Normally she wouldn't waste the time with this sort of question, but this man has done them a tremendous favor, and it didn't seem as though she bought him off with a simple dinner. In fact, that treat was likely to calm them down before what would be spoken next. From the look on his face, he already knew the answer. He was just waiting for Ritsuko to confirm what he already suspects.

"(We didn't hire anyone. We're promoting this Live ourselves.)"

"I knew it!" Jordan shouts as he rises from his chair. Then he realizes he was getting excited and turns around and faces the nighttime Vegas through the drawn window curtain. He must know that his sudden show of emotion was worrying them, but it's clear that he himself was worried. This was why he made sure Iori translated every single thing he said. "The reason it took me so long to find you, was because there was almost no advertising for the concert. I've checked all the normal websites, called all the people who usually know these things, and none of them knew a single thing about you."

"(But that doesn't matter,)" Ritsuko must have been feeling insulted, so she stopped this belittlement of her efforts, "(you found us so there isn't any need to complain.)"

After hearing the translation, "I'm not complaining! Listen, if I couldn't find this concert, _nobody_ is going to find it! You're not going to sell any tickets to this thing!"

Iori couldn't keep up. _'You're not going to sell any tickets' _made her break into a sudden sweat. It was her worst fear put into words. More then being separated from her friends and have the concert canceled, was learning that all her efforts were wasted. So how-

"(Iori.)"

She turns to see Azusa, whose own concern was a reflection of Iori's. Color had been drained from the young idol's face her breathing was starting to get heavy. It was terrible news to deliver, but it was her duty to let them know. When she did, Azusa and Ami were clearly shaken, but Ritsuko only got angrier.

"(What do you mean we won't sell tickets! Do you have any idea how much effort we're putting into this Live? Who are you to say these things?)"

"I've lived here for years, know the people who work these events, I even know a couple of the comedians and magicians who preform nightly; there's no surer way to bomb a show then to not hire a promoter."

"(We're not going to be sitting around and hoping this works! We're goin-)"

"What? Stand out on The Strip and hand out fliers? Go on the radio or be interviewed? Tell me, what are your plans?"

Ritsuko was at a bit of a loss, a rare and unbelievable hesitation. For all the "in-charge" attitude she carried while being Ryuuguu Komachi's manager, at this point she looks as if she just flunked a math test for which she studied all night. She composed herself, of course, but a blow was taken.

"(What do you know! Even if we lack the funds to spend a lot on promotions, we've gotten this far because of the effort we put in!)"

"That's not going to cut it out here. You have to have advertising on billboards, commercials running on television, and articles in the papers for months to attract the attention to sell out a venue. This is the Live Entertainment Capital of the World! You're competing against 100s of shows running on the very same night! Of the hundred thousand people who visit Vegas every day, and most of them plan what shows their seeing in advance. If you're trying to pick up those undecided, you're in for a very rough time. Tell me, what day is your concert?"

"(November 11.)"

"And what year is it?"

"(2011.)"

"11 November 2011. 11/11/11. Did you know that there's a huge promotion on dozens of shows that night? Eleven bucks for nearly all the regular shows playing weekly? I heard this opportunity arouse to play in Vegas because there was a cancellation. Did you ever stop and wonder why? It's because whoever was booked before realized that any one-night-only show didn't have a prayer in that kind of environment! And you think you can preform well without someone who knows the ins and outs of Las Vegas!"

How long had Jordan knew? Iori thought about it. Maybe from the very beginning. Was this why he was so nice to her, because he felt pity? The poor little girl, separated from her friends, booked to play a concert that was doomed to fail. A small production company out in Japan that gambled everything on a losing bet. Ryuuguu Komachi, Yayoi, Miki, Chihaya, and all the others; simply waiting around unknowingly to have the rug pulled out from underneath them. And when they hit the ground, the tower of cards that was their careers would collapse as well. Some might be able to pick themselves off their feet, but many wouldn't.

Iori looks to her manager Ritsuko. That nearly unwavering confidence now barely hung together by loose threads. Much must have be going through her head as well. It didn't look like she was willing to accept everything that Jordan said, but it was clear much new information was there to be processed. But slowly and surely confidence was rising in her expression, constructed by materials Iori might never understand. The problem was that they were unaware of the hazards that awaited them, but now that she knew of them, it appeared that Ritsuko had belief in herself. A change of tactics were in order, but she wasn't quite there.

Azusa and Ami both carried extremely disheartened expressions. It was like their loss to Touma all over again. That bad period that was briefly masked by the glamor of Vegas was now revealed, forgotten but too distant.

What was Iori's own expression? Turning and looking in the mirror, she was surprised herself to find she seemed somewhat relieved. Questioning herself why, she was more then a little confused. When she first heard that they might not sell any tickets, she was as nervous as can be. Now that she understood why, a peace that didn't exist in of the other girls almost made her invulnerable. Why? Finally turning towards Jordan, she immediately understood why.

It was Jordan who was brimming with confidence. For the deliverer of such dire news, he was the one most unaffected by the situation. Very simply could he have walked away and left them forever, but that he even bothered to tell these near-strangers what awaited them proved that he was emotionally involved. He said, _"I just wanted to make sure Iori was returned safely, and everything would be okay if I were gone."_ For only a day had Iori known this man, and nearly nothing of his past was shared between them, but his personality and good heart was as clear as day. _"if I were gone."_ It's not over yet. Jordan is going to stick around to the very end, and by the look on his face, he already has a plan.

Iori stands up and faces her companions from Japan. Not as a translator, she is going to speak as the leader of Ryuuguu Komachi.

"(Listen, I know this sounds difficult. Heck, it sounds impossible. But this past day I've been lost in the very heart of Vegas. Jordan, here, has been my little white rabbit, leading me through an absolute wonderland. Not only have I seen amazing sights, but I've seen the efforts of the amazing people who continually work to bring about this miracle. The people here, who live and breath Vegas everyday, are some of the most generous, helpful people I have ever met. Vegas has it's own attitude, it's own soul, and if you stretch out your hand, it will take it.)"

Suddenly an idea pops into her head. A piece of a puzzle, the most clear and detailed piece she could ever see. Clearly does it make the entire picture easy enough to discern, and almost too much so. Slightly unsure of herself, she looks back to Jordan as if seeking his confirmation. Of course Jordan has no idea what's on her mind, but his attitude is still positive as if he has all the answer in his back pocket. Now Iori too has that answer, that plan which was their salvation. Something then sparked between the two, as if a telepathic transmission was communicated from heart to heart. Jordan knew what Iori was thinking, and Iori knew what Jordan was thinking. He cracks a smile and grin, and waves for her to go ahead. While he could be of tremendous help in this situation, there was by no means a way that he could force these woman from another country to trust him. However, they trusted Iori, even if they didn't trust the Jordan whom had the trust of Iori. Only her words could move them.

"(Las Vegas is like a family, and they all have pride and love each other as if they were a family. If we can prove that we are like them, they will accept us. We can't sell our concert if we try to go after the tourists, we can only do it if we go after the citizens who live here themselves!)"

This wasn't some highhanded speech, but a clear path and objective that they needed to meet. Ritsuko, who didn't seem particularly interested in what Iori was saying, suddenly got caught by an unexpected blow. Whatever plan she was currently formulating, it was clear that she hadn't even began to consider going after the locals. Now that the idea was brought to her, it put her at a loss. A plan that was so completely feasible, but wasn't thought of by her. Pride must have been eating her up inside. It couldn't be helped that it hurt, but there was nothing she could do but submit. Azusa and Ami understood with less conflict, and their spirits received a boost that was so very much needed.

"Iori," Jordan calls out to her, "it seems I'm not really needed here now. There's nothing we can do this late, so rest up. Things need to be prepared, so I'll see you in the morning."

"Um hm!"

With a step that almost seems divine, he heads towards the door and exit. Turning the handle and opening it wide, before he leaves he says one last thing, "Good night, and sweet dreams."

* * *

><p><em>What? You thought it was almost over? Gotcha! We're now only halfway through. Though I must admit, I'm tempted to end it right here with a <em>To Be Continued_, but I can't think up a better name then _Iori's Las Vegas Fairytale Part II_, so it stays open._

_I must say, this chapter was rough. It felt like I was walking on eggshells my entire time writing this. The cast is finally all together, so now I have to consider the points of view of everyone, not just Iori and Jordan. My trickiest times were with Ritsuko who's probably the supporting lead. Normally she's open and friendly to everyone except for the idols of whom she is in charge, so her reaction to Jordan was something like a mix between a mother grizzly bear and a proud working professional. It's her responsibility to strive for the well-being of her idols, yet also not to coddle them and make sure they work. Jordan's presence is almost like a threat to her own, so I feel it's only natural that she reacts negatively to him. To what degree? Well, that's the tricky part. Unfortunately I'm not as comfortable with Ritsuko as I am Iori and some of the others, so hey, it is what it is._

_What we're going to have in the second half is all the _Promotion_, _Training,_ and _Communication_, for the concert, and then the actual event. I've been thinking of also adding an epilogue, but I'll worry about that bridge when I cross it. After all, even I didn't think it'd take 14 chapters to reach this point, but it did. I said this was the midway point, but I'd rather not stretch it as far as 28 chapters, but who knows. It might end up 30+. (Groans at all the writing that's ahead)_

_Well, I hoped you've enjoyed my first ever fanfic so far, cause your in for a lot more of it. Until the next time I feel like adding my own comments-_

_~Kyle Castorena  
><em>


	15. 15 Nighttime Communication

Chapter 15

Nighttime Communication

Clearly it wasn't designed for a group of people, even if it was a suite. There was plenty of space but only one bed. Installed against a wall was a bar designated for drinks to be served, a long table that was suitable for dinner, and lots of seating area made it clear that this was for a party; a gathering that was only temporary. If Ryuuguu Komachi were the typical Rock Stars this room would have suited them well, but there were three underage member they needed to consider. In fact the only one really old enough to wander around the casino was Azusa, but if she were left alone who knows where she'd wind up. This wasn't a room that at all suited it's occupants, but then again it could have been a lot worse.

Apparently they hadn't thought to call the front desk for an extra bed the night before (before Richie left) so Ritsuko was forced to sleep on the couch. Tonight she claimed she was very tired, so she'd already taken the bed for herself. Azusa said she'd bunk with her once she became sleepy, so that left Iori with the restless Ami. The eldest might have been weary enough to fall asleep at the moment, but the topic of conversation was too juicy to pass by.

Beginning as such, "(So, what_ really _happened last night?)"

Suddenly being asked this by Ami as soon as Ritsuko was out of sight, Iori was at a bit of a loss.

"(Yes, I would like to know as well,)" Azusa seemed strangely excited.

"(What? Nothing happened.)"

"(I don't think nothing happened. I saw the way you and Ojii-chan were looking at each other. You can't fool me!)"

"(Yes, I'm also worried about what happened with Huntsman-san.)"

Being ganged up on by her fellow idol-mates made her a bit uncomfortable, but there really wasn't anything to hide, "(I'm telling you, nothing happened between me and Jordan. He lives in a...two bed apartment. I was given my own room.)"

"(Why did you hesitate?)" questioned Azusa.

"(Suspicious...)" added Ami.

Azusa also points out, "(And you called him 'Jordan.')"

This pressure, Iori couldn't help getting nervous, but there was nothing for her to be ashamed, "(That's nothing! This is America. It's cultural to address someone by their first name.)"

Being more familiar with cultures of the world then the other two combined, it was of little question that she would rarely commit a_ faux-pas _and be unintentionally rude to another. So their little attempt at insinuating a level of intimately that didn't exist wouldn't succeed. However, it seems they're hell-bent on the idea.

"(Are you sure? I've never seen you warm up to someone that quickly,)" spoke Ami, as if she were the authority on all things Iori-related.

"(I must agree,)" Azusa supplements, "(An older, er, rugged gentleman does seem to be your type. And the two of you seemed to match each other well.)"

_My type? _Iori thought._ Don't be silly. Our feelings towards each other aren't like that. Besides, he called you "Beautiful."_

Knowing she can't backtrack and tell her that now, Iori instead says, "(I don't know. _You_ seem more to be his type.)"

Azusa, who was suddenly thrown a curve ball, puts a hand over her mouth and replies, "(Oh, I don't know about that. I guess underneath he is one who's good at taking care of others, but the impression I had of him was more like a father. That's not quite what I'm looking for in a man.)"

"(A father, hm?)" Ami was coming to her own conclusions. "(Do you think he has any kids?)"

That was certainly a good question. Iori didn't think he did, but then again she didn't know for certain. Actually, in his apartment there weren't any pictures framed on the wall of laying atop his desk or cabinets. Jordan certainly wasn't the kind of man that would shun his own children.

"(No, I doubt it,)" Iori finally concluded. There were some other things she could conclude, "(He was never married and doesn't have a girlfriend.)" She remembered Vanessa with whom she met this morning, and he stated himself that they weren't a couple. "(Jordan's completely available. What do you say Azusa, why don't you give it a shot?)"

The woman in question tried to laugh it off, but this did nothing to alleviate the diverted pressure from Iori. Ami too seemed to be getting on the bandwagon.

"(Maybe you should. I bet underneath all his puffy beard and glasses, he's really handsome.)"

Iori added in, "(And he's really smart, and funny, and he can't stop himself from helping other people.)"

"(Now!)" her voice was part playful and part pathetic. "(Stop it you two! You're starting to sound like my mother.)"

"Nihihihi," Iori cackled, "(you both are at that ripe age. Neither of you are going to look any prettier or handsome then you are now. Jordan might be your last chance!)"

"(Yes, it was a romance that was written in the stars,)" Ami stands and speaks as if she were narrating on a theater stage. "(The two of them couldn't speak a word to each other, but it was their) LOVE (that let them break the barrier of language. All that was needed to be said was done when their lips touched.)" And Ami puckers up in a very exaggerated manner.

Iori stands and joins in, "(Oh my dear Azusa, how I loved you so! From the moment we first met, I understood that I had to run away with you! To steal you away from your family and country. Nothing can stand before the power of my) LOVE!"

Fed up, Azusa moves with nearly inhuman speed and grabs both Ami and Iori by the backs of their heads. Ami, who's still puckered like a duck, has no idea what's happening. Unfortunately, Iori is helpless against the older, taller, and stronger woman. Azusa brings the two faces together and forces them to kiss.

"Hm-m-m-mph!"

Once finally allowed to separate, Iori crumples to the floor like a used washrag. She sniffles like a wounded puppy, but it clearly sounds fake.

"(That was my first kiss,)" she whines.

Ami, who still left in wonder as to what just happened, quickly picks up and acts along, "(Don't worry, I'll take responsibility!)"

The pair interlock their hands and gaze into each eyes. Slowly their faces draw to one another as if they were two inseparable forces.

"Ha ha ha ha ha!" it was Azusa who first broke the act.

Once the seal had been broke, Ami quickly followed suit and even Iori started to snicker.

"(Shut up in there!)" came the shout from a tired Ritsuko from beyond the closed bedroom door.

Unable to help themselves, they all laugh again, but this time at a much lower volume. Once that compose themselves, Azusa lowers herself to her knees and wraps her arms around her partners in a giant hug.

She says, "(I'm glad we're all safe. We're together, and we'll get through this.)"

"(Yeah,)" Iori adds, "(we're going to sell out our concert.)"

"'Concert?' (Don't you mean) 'Live?'" Ami put to note. "(You've been talking funny since you came back.)"

"(Yeah, maybe I have.)"

Azusa noticed, "(You really like it here, don't you?)"

"Hm!"

"(I guess it does have it's own, very unique, charm. Maybe the rest of us will get to see it tomorrow. But we better get to sleep, before Ritsuko yells at us again.)"

"(Yeah.)"

"(What was it that Huntsman-san said,) 'sweet dreams?'"

"(Yeah. Sweet Dreams. Definitely old-man-like.)"

"Hm," was Azusa's response. It was clear she had a different take on the matter, but she kept it to herself.

Finally had the three winded down, and slept a very peaceful sleep.

* * *

><p><em>Well, this short, lighthearted chapter seemed like the perfect intermission between acts I and II. The idea popped into my head and I decided to roll with it. Not particularly important, but definitely not a waste of space. A sort of reintroduction to the supporting cast that had been absent thus far. We'll be seeing a lot more of them from now on, so just in case you forgot who they are...<em>

_Oh yeah, something I wanted to add but forgot to, I'm writing this fanfic in a style that can be read even if you weren't familiar with these characters. For the non-Idolmaster fans, so to speak. So if some of what I'm writing feels repetitive, that's why._

_~Kyle Castorena_


	16. 16 CHANGE ! ! !

Chapter 16

CHANGE ! ! !

Far earlier then when they would have liked to be awaken, a knock at the door jerks them from what would have been a very restful sleep. The Iori/Ami combo had set up their hotel roller bed in the main lounge, very close to the front door. At the moment it was very dark in the room, but only because Ami had the foresight to close the blackout shade before she went to sleep. Apparently she learned from previous experience that the Las Vegas sunrise was very bright when in a room facing East. Of the two, Ami rose the faster and began to head for the door. Iori, who hated being awakened before she was ready (though when required, will pull herself out of bed), merely rolled over and groaned. There was a digital clock next to the flat screen TV, and it read 7:42am.

Cautiously Ami approaches the door, electing first to look through the peek hole before opening. This must have been what she'd done yesterday when Iori arrived with Jordan and the Security Guard. Now that she thought about it, Iori stood pretty far off to the side at the time. After getting a look at the visitor, Ami scrambles back to her friend.

"Iorin, Iorin," with urgency in a hushed voice, "(there's a really cool oniisan at the door!)"

"(What?)" Iori's voice was more then a little groggy.

For a moment she sat there as if to say, "what do you want me to do about it," but then realized that, at the moment, she was the only one who could communicate in English. Another knock sounds and there's rustling from the bedroom, either Azusa or Ritsuko or both. Whatever this "cool oniisan" wants, it's better for her to deal with it as quickly as possible so she can get back to sleep.

As she approaches the door, Ritsuko exits the bedroom and asks what's going on. Iori let's Ami handle the response.

"Cool oniisan" wasn't a bad description. Perhaps in his early twenties, it was a tall young man with slick back hair, attired in dark slacks and a royal blue dress shirt. Dressed to impress, he also had some very handsome features. Clean skin, medium cheekbones, and a strong chin and jaw; this was some who looked very comfortable hitting on women in bars. But there was something off about him. It was his eyes, clear yet somehow weary. Deep wrinkles formed as if he were older then he really was.

"(Wait a second,)" Iori whispers.

When Iori opened the door the other girl had formed behind her.

"Jordan?" nearly shouting in disbelief.

"What the heck?" the voice was distinctly Jordan's. "I told you I was coming back in the morning."

Sidestepping Iori, Jordan makes his way in and hits the light.

"It's dark in here-"

Stopped mid-sentence, what the light reveals are the other two members of Ryuuguu Komachi and their manager, all in their pajamas. For one who seemed to never hesitate, even Jordan didn't know what to do in this situation. A few seconds pass by without anyone talking, moving, and perhaps even breathing. All four had the same dandelion floral print, but in different colors. Iori's was light purple, Azusa dark blue, Ritsuko green, and Ami yellow. The two younger ones were wearing matching shorts, while the older pair were in long baggy sweats. In unison with their hairs standing on ends and eyes bulging wide, their hands move to hide their otherwise indistinct busts.

Azusa and Ritsuko scream and rush into the bedroom, slamming the door behind them. Iori sighs and Ami laughs.

"That could have gone better," Jordan says in clear disappointment.

"Iorin!" Ami bids for her leader's attention. "(Is this Jordan-oniichan?)"

"(Yes.)" Then turning to Jordan, "You shaved your beard?"

"Yeah. It felt like they were intimidated by it yesterday. Guess it didn't help though."

"And your glasses?"

"Contacts. I hate putting them on, but I figured I should cause of all the work we gotta do today."

Also was his hair slick back, but now that Iori can see his backside, it was still tied into a ponytail. It was a rather charming transformation. But now that she thought about it,

"How old are you?"

Jordan, who was moving towards the table, stops and looks back, "How old do you think I am?"

Iori wasn't good at this game, so her number was pretty high, "I thought you were like 40, or 50."

"Good Lord woman! I'm only 25!"

Iori was at a short of breath. Only 10 years separated the two! Her impression of him was that of a very fit grandpa. Had she know they were that close in age, she would have definitely thought twice about staying the night with him.

Unconsciously her hands moved to hide herself like with Ritsuko and Azusa, but then she remembers that before he'd seen her in only a T-shirt. The embarrassment she should have felt then hits her now, and her face turns beat red.

Ami, who understood none of that conversation but saw Iori's reaction, asks, "(Iorin, what were you talking about?)"

Not thinking much of her response, "(He says he's 25.)"

"(Oh,)" and a sly, crafty smile creeps up on her face. Darting off like a mosquito who's found it's next target, she runs up to the man and grabs him by the arm, "(Oniichan, Oniichan, do you like younger girls?)"

Upon hearing the question, "Ami!"

While she became suddenly flustered, Iori didn't realize until moments later that Jordan had no idea what the youngest of the group asked. Ami must have known it too, and she only spoke because she knew it would get a rise out of Iori. It was as if Iori just confirmed that suspicion Ami had last night. Iori's loss of composure would surly make her a target for further teasing in the future.

Innocently, Jordan asks, "What'd she say?"

"Never mind!"

It took a minute for Jordan to realize that no matter how many times he asks, or how forcefully he tries, Iori was never going to translate Ami's question. Once he finally gave up, he sat himself in the same chair as he did last night and begins to explain today's plans.

After instructing her to tell this to Ritsuko, "I want to see everything that you'd planned for today. Your manager might not have had bad ideas, so if we can tweak them a bit with a little Vegas flavor that would be all for the better. Of course I have my own ideas on what we should do, but this is my first time doing this kind of thing. I'm not here to take her place. It would be for the best if we work together."

Wanting to put some distance between herself and those two, Iori immediately agrees and heads into the bedroom.

"(Shut the door!)" Ritsuko shouts as Iori enters.

If Jordan had been in a better position, what he would have seen in that brief moment was the girls changing into more appropriate clothes, and more then an eyeful of their underwear. From his position he couldn't even see the door. Did he choose that seat for this purpose? Likely. If he so desired he could have helped himself to some free eye-candy, but this seemed to be the last thing on his mind. Apparently the only one flustered about the age issue was Iori.

"(Was that Huntsman-san?)" Azusa was currently troubling herself into a long white skirt, her bent over position would have made all of her male fans drool.

"(Yeah. He said he shaved his beard because he thought you were frightened of him.)"

"(Oh my, that's not-)"

"(The nerve of him!)" Ritsuko couldn't hold back any longer, hence interrupting. "(What the heck is he thinking, barging into a woman's room like that?)"

Winning over these two might prove difficult indeed, though Azusa seems to be adjusting her outlook on him. Ritsuko was a completely different matter. For whatever reason, these two seemed like they would never click.

"(Jordan wants to see our schedule. He wants us to work together so we can do our very best promoting.)"

Ritsuko hasn't finished buttoning up her shirt, but she stops the moment his request was relayed. This definitely didn't make her any happier. The way she turns and looks at Iori lets the girl know that what's coming isn't good.

"(Iori, I don't know what happened to you during that past day, but you can't trust that man. Why is he doing this? What's his motivation? Yesterday he talked all night, but he didn't say a single thing about himself, and any time we asked, he always changed the subject. He's hiding more then a few things. And there's something else. Something, dangerous, about him.)"

How much of this Iori could handle? She didn't know, but she did know that Ritsuko's badgering was brushing against her limits. Yes, Jordan might not have like to talk about himself, but does that matter? He's lived longer than any of the women here, so wouldn't it be natural that there was a thing or two he rather not say? Besides, actions speak louder than words, and while his words can sometimes be harsh and nonsensical, by far has he proven he has their best interests in mind. However, Ritsuko was her manager, and choosing someone to favor over her would be a damning career move. After all, they'll still have to work together even with Las Vegas behind them.

"(He knows this city better then any of us ever will,)" Iori does her best to reply calmly. "(We need his help, and that's the bottom line. Unless you expect this Richie to be any help. By the way, where is he?)"

Ritsuko pretended not to hear that snide tone of voice that leaked at the end only because she knew their original interpreter wasn't very good. "(He'll be here at 10, like any normal professional would.)"

Yes, Jordan was early, but doesn't that clearly show his commitment to this affair? Just another thing Iori had to fight not to say.

"(The schedule?)" she was forced to ask again.

"(Right.)"

Ritsuko passes Iori her phone with nearly disgust. Clearly the manager isn't keen on sharing responsibilities, but the reason why could be her own lack of experience. Certainly was this damaging to her pride, so Iori would give her the benefit of the doubt.

As a small coincidence, Iori and Ritsuko had the same model phone. Top of the line touch screen that isn't particularly popular in Japan, but a phenomenon around the rest of the world. Very expensive, Iori chose this model merely because of it's price, while Ritsuko needed it for it's functionality. Swiftly did the young girl manage to navigate the device to retrieve today's itinerary. Unfortunately it was all in Japanese, so Iori would have to translate and write it down on paper. In the nightstand next to the bed she found a pen and notepad.

Now that she thought about it, it was probably a bad idea to leave Jordan and Ami alone together for too long. When Iori finished and returned to the main room, the man had the girl over his shoulder while he was on his laptop. Irritation was clear on his face.

"Iori," he anxiously says when noticing her return, "do something."

"(Ami! Get off!)"

Upon being called the young girl leaps off Jordan's back and says, "(Guess what! Jordan-oniisan is like, really strong! He's got all these big muscles, and he's really smart! He types way faster then piyo-chan.)" And by piyo-chan, she meant Kotori Otonashi. Ami has nicknames for just about everyone.

"(Yeah, I know.)"

So thus had been established Ami's fascination with Jordan. Whether or not it was a healthy fascination was another story.

"Here's the schedule," she nearly throws it at Jordan. "You better appreciate all the effort I put in into translating it."

"There wasn't any effort," shooting back. "Your English has gotten a lot better since we met. You're speaking fluently, don't pause anymore, and your accent is nearly gone. This was a breeze for you. Too easy."

Iori didn't know if she should be upset that he was disagreeing with her, or flattered at his compliments and trust in her skill. Either way, the tension that was building from the Ritsuko episode was now completely drained. All she could do was sigh at the situation.

"By the way," Jordan added, "what does _oniisan_ mean? Ami keeps calling me that."

"It's," and Iori didn't know how to continue. Did he want to know what it really meant, or what Ami likely meant? In the end she concluded, "It's just something you call a person that's like you."

"Meaning?"

"It doesn't translate into English."

This language barrier was seriously turning out to be a problem for Jordan. Iori completely had the upper hand. Only she knew what everyone was saying, but that didn't mean she had tell everyone or even translate accurately. Heck, she could downright lie and nobody would be the wiser. A number of times already had she refused to translate something, and Jordan was committing those occasions to memory.

Not having the time to argue, now that the schedule is in his hands it was time to work. After studying some he takes to his laptop and begins to type away. Iori isn't sure what he's planning, but decides it's best to leave him for now. Dragging Ami with her, they head in the back to change.

One bathroom, shared between four girls, can make the most peaceful and understanding of families into raving lunatics. Even though everyone bathed last night, cleansing oneself wasn't even half the battle. Thankfully the bathroom had twin vanity mirrors, but they were still fighting with each other so they could do their hair, makeup, and dress themselves. Apparently it wasn't that big of a deal yesterday as they were in search mode, but now that they had actual business to preform everything needed to be top class. Iori had to stop Ami from rushing back out into the lounge after only changing.

Since cutting her long hair, Azusa's prep time had dropped dramatically, and she was the first out of the bathroom. Iori wasn't sure, but that woman almost seemed a bit hurried. Was she possibly taking last night's conversation to heart now that she had a look at the man without his unkempt qualities? The girl didn't know, but one thing she did was that Azusa wasn't afraid to get close to a man and test the waters, so to speak. By far she wasn't someone who would hunt with the ferocity of a predator, but she wasn't afraid to flirt a little bit. Normally the woman was too busy to partake in such activities, but from time to time she's been noticed getting friendly with the stage crew or whatever staff who happened to catch her interest. However, if the male was too pushy she'd immediately be turned off, so it seemed she preferred being the hunter over the prey.

Actually, knowing the man as well as she did, Iori imagined that really would make Jordan her type. He respected others wishes and thought of them before himself. Maybe that's why there was nothing between him and Vanessa, because he's not the type of man that confronts women in that way. Actually, it might be more accurate to say that he's bad in that type of situation. Sure he can be casual and friendly, but when getting serious and committal, he gets nervous. Kind of like when he gave those tickets to the dark-skinned woman. That was one of those rare moment in which he hesitated.

All that aside, Iori doubted anything would happen. After all, Jordan and Azusa can't talk to each other.

Compared to Azusa, Ritsuko was dragging her feet to get ready. There really was something about Jordan that bothered her. Rarely, very rarely, did the girls see their manager so openly hostile to anyone. Only when she saw someone as a threat to her idols did she even seem to raise her voice. Normally it's Azusa who's the prime target of "questionable" treatment from with whom she works. DJs, reports, and TV personalities have from time to time gotten too close to the idol, and when they do it's always Ritsuko who immediately rises in her defense. Other then that she was pleasant to work with. What made all those warning bells ring in her manager's head Iori couldn't understand.

Iori made Ami help her with her grooming just to make sure they both left at the same time. Ami was trouble on a completely different level, and by far was the worst when left unsupervised. Of all the girls, Jordan seemed the weakest with the pushy, intrusive types like the youngest idol. Probably because Ami requires constant attention and disciple, which Jordan seems completely incapable of the latter. Actually, any time Iori would want revenge on him, Ami would probably the most efficient deliverer. This Iori would keep in mind.

Outside Iori found Azusa sitting at the table across from Jordan. She was calm, silent, and patient as she simply sat down and was watching him. Her pleasant smile on her face.

"Okay," Jordan could only be speaking to Iori, "you people are officially starting to weird me out."

Seeing that man getting flustered by being surrounded by woman was too amusing for Iori. She couldn't wait to hear what happened.

"First she got me something to drink, and that was fine. Then she got me a napkin, and I was cool. But then she started bringing me paper, pens, and I'm surprised she didn't drag that printer from the desk over there and install it right next to me! Why does she keep giving me stuff?"

Iori had to laugh. Slightly overbearing, this might be how Azusa acts whenever her parents force her into an omiai (marriage interview). This must have been her way to appealing to Jordan with the barrier of language between them.

"(What did Huntsman-san say?)" Azusa asks.

"(He said he wanted me to tell you thank you, and he appreciates the gesture.)"

What immediately caught Iori's eye was Jordan's stern and slightly apprehensive stare. It was if he somehow knew she was lying, but not the context of their conversation. Like a mother who knows her child his hiding something from her, but doesn't know what. Of course Jordan doesn't say anything, but it's as if he can smell guilt like a dog smells fear. It was going to be tricky dealing with him if Iori has to continue being a translator. There were simply things that were better off not said.

"So, ah, what do we have planned for today?" as she asks this, Ritsuko walks into the room.

"(How are you going to butcher my plans?)" is the first the manager asks of him.

Jordan was somewhat put off by being addressed in another language, but Iori waves her off. It was left to his impression that they were asking the same thing. He begins, and Iori translates, "You've committed yourself to some pretty troubling things. A lot of these meeting you have set up won't help sell tickets to your concert, but canceling them will do more harm than good. Make these people mad and they can easily wreck your show."

"(Well if it's pointless why bother?)" Ritsuko asks after hearing the translation.

"Because you have to give your dues. Kind of like, 'you scratch my back and I scratch yours', but without the return favor. It's actually, 'you scratch my back because I'm me, and good luck with your concert'. Simply, they have you hostage. This is cowboy country, and you have to pay lip service just so they'll leave you alone. If you want a favor from them, well, that's going to take a lot of work."

"(If you say we can't change anything, why are you here?)" Iori would clean this up so it wasn't so rude.

"Don't worry, there's plenty we can do in the later hours, and tomorrow too. I have some things I'll need time to set up, so let's start of with going with the flow, and we'll pick it up from there."

Even to Iori it sounded a little irresponsible, but she knows Jordan has something up his sleeve. Actually, probably many somethings.

"First off, why don't we get some breakfast, I know this-"

"No!/(No!)," was shouted in both languages. Any time he starts talking about food, the daily allowed calorie consumption index goes out the window. Instead they opted for room service, and a far less amount then what Jordan would have suggested.


	17. 17 Orthodox

Chapter 17

Orthodox

As if the starter's pistol was shot, things started to pick up as soon as Richie arrived. Quick introductions were made, and Jordan was addressed as being their Promoter. For a moment Iori imagined sparks of electricity spraying in the background when those two shook hands, but she knew if that were true the student translator would be quickly defeated. Of the two, her savior was taller, more handsome, stronger, and better dressed then the one who answered Kotori's Wanted ad. Actually, Iori flirted with the idea of just firing this youth, but she had enough of translating everything. Richie had already been paid, so he may as well stick around. Quickly did the young idol establish that she knew English, so if he was going to continue to stick needlessly close to Azusa (he found Ritsuko too much of a shrew), he wasn't irreplaceable. It wasn't exactly a bluff, but Iori didn't want the extra work put on her table.

Originally Team Ryuuguu Komachi planned to take a taxi from place to place, but because the search for Iori warranted rapid transportation, they were forced to rent a vehicle. A large four door, six seat, gas guzzling, SUV. If they had reserved in advance they could have gotten something more practical. As the only one with a driver's license (excluding Richie and Jordan), Ritsuko was forced behind the wheel. In that monster her feet could barely reach the peddles. Jordan openly laughed upon seeing the spectacle. Pushing her aside he offered to be their driver. Iori was worried because he only rode a bicycle around town, but he assured her he had his license. In Japan they called that a "Paper Driver." She wondered why he didn't own a car.

Their first destination was a mandatory one. Pictures needed to be taken. These photos would be used for multiple purposes. Some of them were for banners, advertisements, magazine articles, and the like. Ryuuguu Komachi had to go through additional makeup, costume changes, and multiple sessions. By the time this was checked off the list, half the day was gone.

"I really wish these kinds of things didn't take so long," Jordan complained.

"We tried to hurry up," Iori's tone compassionately agreed, "but with the photographer yelling at us, and Richie trying to translate, it was harsher than it should have been."

"Don't blame me," Richie tries to defend himself, "that guy was a total spazz and kept changing his mind every other second!"

Iori knew this was true, and honestly, even she didn't know what he was saying and they spoke the same language.

They had the leisure of shooting the breeze because Azusa and Ritsuko had to stop and use the bathroom, leaving the men and the two youngest to simply wait.

"Iorin, Iorin," it was Ami calling, "(What are you talking about?)"

Shooting a glance at Richie, it was supposed to be his job keeping everyone in the loop. That meant normal conversations too. The hired help sighs painfully and translates. At that moment Ami realizes that at this point she can communicate freely with Jordan, and not having to worry about Iori messing things up. Actually, Iori realized that as well only moments later, and mentally kicks herself of not keeping the notion hidden. If only she translated when asked.

"(Hey, Jordan-oniichan, what kind of girls do you like?)" apparently, Ami wouldn't let the issue drop.

Somewhat taken back by the question, Jordan didn't really bother much with the answer, "I don't know, someone shorter than me."

Most woman were shorter than him, so Iori knew that his response was teasing.

"(So, Jordan-oniichan has a complex about his height I see. What about cooking?)"

"She's gotta suck. I can't eat anything but my own food."

Ami was starting to frown, as if shes to catching on to what he's doing, "(What type of hairstyle do you like?)"

"They gotta shave. I don't like me no hairy women."

That wasn't what she was asking, "(What about personality?)"

"Only if they don't do what they're told."

Ami grumbles, realizing she wasn't going to get any straight answers out of him. Instead, she needed to be even more direct, "(How do you feel about Ricchan?)"

"Total future cat lady."

While that was funny, Ami couldn't back down. He was answering her questions without a second's hesitation. She needed to do the same. "Azusa-oneechan?"

"Closet masochist. I don't like pain."

"(Me.)"

"I get a cavity just looking at you."

"Iorin."

There was nothing.

Was it hesitation, surprise, or unsure? For whatever reason, Jordan simply stood there staring into space. Iori too had perked up her ear once Ami started asking about the girls individually. Obviously he was messing with her, like he'd done Iori so many times, but when he paused at her name, even she was on-edge. Was he actually giving it thought?

"They're done," he says and begins to walk away.

Confused, Iori looks around and immediately sees what he meant. Azusa and Ritsuko are standing there, somewhat trying to hide. The manager seems very angry.

"(Cat lady?)"

He _knew_ they were standing there. Everything that was just said was meant to rile them in one way or the other, thanks to Richie's translation. Perhaps this was his way of relieving stress.

Their next stop was an interview for the weekly Vegas magazine that highlights all the upcoming shows. Normally this would have been seen as a solid move, but normally these kinds of things were done about a week in advance, not a day. Jordan didn't hold very high hopes.

"They are professionals," he said as he drove, Richie translating, "but I don't think they're going to think we're as serious as we are. We're going there in person, the concert's tomorrow night, and your company doesn't have a large enough Public Relations department to get much of this done over the phone and emails. This interview could simply have been done over a conference call or web-meeting, but you're just waiting till now to do it. I understand there are such thing as distance and language barriers, but this could have been so much better if it really were done in advance."

Ritsuko tries to explain, "(I understand that, but it took us a very long time just to have this interview scheduled. Ours is a small company.)"

"And that's why you'll receive second treatment. It's all a peeing contest," and that received a gasped breathe from the girls, "out here, so you have to make a show of force in one way or another. Unfortunately this isn't doing it."

"(Then tell me, why should we bother then?)"

"Well, they might not be willing to help you out that much, but if you brush them off they can do a lot to harm us. It's like kneeling down and kissing the ring, or whatever yakuza equivalent that is. Vegas is cowboy country. You have to give them their dues just so they'll leave you alone. So we kind of don't have a choice. We could've gotten by if you never scheduled the interview, but now that you have we have to waste the time with them. Just, don't forget to smile."

After pulling over once so Azusa could get some air, they arrived at the magazine's business office, which by coincidence, was only a block away from their hotel. Jordan grumbled about miss-scheduling and wasting time. According to him, this was the last thing they _needed_ to do from Ritsuko's original itinerary.

Being led around by the receptionist had them waiting in a small room with white walls and roundish furniture. Jordan and Richie were talking about the student's hometown in Phoenix, how his home was far warmer then it was here in Vegas, and Jordan arguing that Vegas always has the hotter summers. Pretty much useless banter.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," a woman in half-casual/half-professional attire said as she walks in. Short and a little heavyset, she was still pleasant to look at with her cute face and strawberry blonde hair. Perhaps only a few years separated her and Jordan. "Normally we send our reporters to the musician, not the other way around." (Jordan grumbles again, though it escaped the notice of everyone except the two closest to him, Iori and Richie.) "Is that a cultural thing?"

Ritsuko took over, "(We thought it was most appropriate seeing as we have the privilege of being hosted by your wonderful city.)"

This woman with the brilliant hair and bright gray eyes listened to the translation intently, and seems to lack no small amount of interest.

"Really? Well, let me say that Las Vegas is really gracious to invite you. My name is Michelle Peterson and I'll be conducting the interview."

While introductions were being made, Iori couldn't help comparing Michelle to Noah the event coordinator. Is this new woman also putting up an act, or is she genuine?

"Excuse me, did you say you were their promoter?" Michelle was asking Jordan.

"Ah, yes. I won't be intruding on your interview. Just think of me as a fly on the wall."

Now that Iori thought about it, Jordan's current presence serves no purpose. He'd just said he had nothing to contribute to the interview, so was he listening in only to pass the time? Not that he would ever admit to this, but this act was merely childlike curiosity. Certainly was this in-line with his personality.

"First I would like to get to know some of your members, as you are a diverse collection of girls. The youngest of you is Ami. You're currently 13 years old, but you actually started over a year ago. What drove you to enter showbiz at so young?"

Ami answers as playfully as she always does, and Ritsuko cringed at some of the responses given. Honestly, they were not very different from some of the questions asked from when she first debuted. Being introduced to a completely new audience could be like that. Even Ritsuko was somewhat surprised by the familiarity she had to these questions, and the predictability of the on-coming new ones.

Next was Azusa, who had attracted the most attention from the moment she stepped foot into these offices. Some of the questions presented probably would have been more suited to Iori, and Michelle was honestly surprised by how down to earth this Idol was. Azusa was quiet, soft spoken, and nearly inhumanly polite. "Charming" would be the word Michelle would use to fit Azusa to a T. Even the interviewer herself was slightly blushing at the woman's warm aura. Actually, Iori noticed that this received a curious stare from Jordan.

"And finally, Iori Minase. Actually, you are the leader of this group, are you not? How did you come into such a role despite not being the oldest member?" Michelle was somewhat trailing off when she noticed Richie ceased translating, but she continued regardless.

"That wasn't something that was decided at the beginning," Iori surprises her with her answer. "When we first began as a group, it was Ritsuko who was mainly in charge. I guess the role of leadership fell to me because I was always the first one to step forward. The first to practice, the first to criticize my fellow idols, and the first to lend a helping hand. Somehow it just happened, and everyone started looking at me to take the lead. Naturally I accepted the role, but I did so with a sense of humility."

Actually, that wasn't _exactly_ how it happened. From the very start Iori insisted that she be the leader, but her effort thus far has been exemplary. Slightly out of order, she proved worthy of being a leader after the responsibility was bestowed upon her, not the other way around. Still, her told version makes for a better story.

"Wow! You speak really good English. Have you spent time before in English speaking countries?"

"Why yes!" Iori energetically explains. "I've visited America many times, as well as England, France, Spain, Italy, Germany, Switzerland, Russia, India, China-" she was on a roll.


	18. 18 Unorthodox

Chapter 18

Unorthodox

"(You need the Master CD?)" Ritsuko asks quizzically.

"Yes, it's imperative that we get this going!"

Ever since the end of the interview, Jordan has been anxious to get moving. Longer did it take than he expected, and to make up for lost time he now wanted everything twice as fast and without question.

As a matter of precaution, and because previous sabotage from 961 warranted, a Master CD was to be on-person of the manager at all times. This was likely true with every music production company. If Jordan knew this or not was unknown, but by all rights he looks as if he wants the disk right now.

"(Why do you need it?)" she was still a bit sour over the _Cat Lady_ comment.

"Look, this is why I'm sticking with you guys. It's already afternoon and we only have a couple more hours of daylight left. My next couple plans are very time-sensitive, so I need your full cooperation. That means I don't have the time to explain every single thing. I need the Master CD, and the girls to pick one of their costumes."

Obviously something felt off. Their next scheduled event was handing out fliers on The Strip. Already were they going to change into their costumes, but by Jordan's explanation they were going to do something else. So what was it? He explained his lack of explanation due to lack of time, but that didn't seem to be the issue. So why was he hiding it?

"(Okay,)" she hesitantly agrees.

Iori kept silent as she watched their exchange, but she couldn't bring herself to get too involved. Something else was plaguing her mind. Back at the interview, just as everything was wrapping up and they were leaving, Michelle asked Jordan, "Have we met before?" Did she not recognize him without the beard, or was this mistaken identity? Jordan denied that they had, but who knew if this was the truth. Michelle was a professional journalist and must have met a multitude of stars, so it was unlikely that she was someone who forgot a face. But Jordan didn't seem to be lying. So what was throwing Iori off-kilter?

"Iori," came the concerned voice of Azusa, "(what's wrong?)"

Since she herself didn't know how to explain it, all she could say is, "(Nothing.)"

"Alright," Jordan said after the CD was in his possession. "Ritsuko, I'm going to need you to drive. There are a few things I need to set up. I want you to take us to-" and he gave her a destination.

"(Okay?)" it was easy to tell that Ritsuko was confused.

When they got into the big SUV, Jordan joined the idols in the rear. Ami and Azusa were startled at first, but didn't throw an objection. As they were pulling out of the magazine parking lot, Jordan was already pulling his laptop out of his backpack and turning it on. Also did he retrieve a external disk reader. Plugging the two together, he inserted the Master CD and began to work. Naturally the girls huddled over him to try and see what he was doing. Because they've seen it themselves time and again, they knew he was working with an audio mixing program, but that was about it.

"(What is oniichan doing?)" Ami asks.

"(I'm not sure,)" Iori replies.

Azusa was to the left of him, Iori to the right, and Ami from behind. Jordan was surrounded by beautiful women on all sides and his sights were squarely glued on his computer monitor. From Iori's position it looked like Azusa was trying to nudge in especially close, but the man was oblivious to it all. At least she might have been trying to get close, until looking at the screen while inside a moving vehicle made her sick. Quickly did she turn to face the widow.

Iori sat back in her chair and nestles Usa-chan in her lap. By stroking the doll's head it helped comfort herself a tiny bit. Something really was bothering her. Was it that moment between Jordan and Michelle, or something else? Could she have missed anything, something that she should have noticed but didn't? Or was this some kind of premonition that these next turn of events were going to be critical?

Looking around she saw Azusa focused on the view outside the window, Ritsuko busy driving, Richie looking somewhat tired and bored, and Ami hanging over the seat to watch Jordan. Everything seemed normal. So why this foreboding?

While working on his laptop, Jordan crosses his legs to sit more comfortably. His left leg sits above his right knee, and his big black boots are a few centimeters from Iori.

"Boots?" Iori unconsciously says. Now that she thinks about it, she never once looked at Jordan's feet.

Ritsuko, who was paying extra close attention to what was going on behind her as much as the road, asks Richie, "(What did she say?)"

"(Boots,)" he answers.

After maybe 20 minutes, Jordan reaches for his cellphone and dials a number.

"Hello? It's Jordan Huntsman, we spoke earlier. We're going to be at Bally's in about half an hour. Can you make it? Yeah, cool. Try not to miss us." And hangs up.

Everyone's attention was on Jordan, but he shirks it off like it was nothing. For now his preparations seem to be complete, so he leans back and takes a breath. In a moment he powers down his laptop and puts it back in his bag. Putting the Master CD back in it's case, he hands it towards the front of the vehicle.

"You can have it back now," he tells the driver.

After hearing the translation from Richie, "(You better not have made a copy of it.)"

"That's exactly what I did."

Aghast, Ritsuko didn't know how to respond. Merely was she being fickle, as she didn't want copies of her idol's songs to be pirated over the internet (not that she had any power to stop it), but never did she think he'd actually do it. Even more so admit to his crime. Actually, however, she didn't believe he would. For a moment she was mad at herself for not giving him the benefit of a doubt, but she knew he wasn't the kind of guy to steal their music. Even so flagrantly. He copied the CD to have it on his laptop. What he planned to do next wouldn't be dishonest.

"Who did you call?" Iori asks, knowing before Ritsuko that he wouldn't steal.

He opens his mouth to speak, but then closes it. His face cringes as if he's having trouble thinking of how to explain. After a moment he says, "The smut press."

About ten minutes later they're in front of the hotel, and Jordan directs them to some alley leading towards the loading dock.

"Park here."

This was a seedy looking place, but as it was still broad daylight there wasn't much cause for concern. Jordan heads for the door and lets himself out. The girl can only sit and wait as they don't know what's going on.

"Okay," he tells them through Richie's translation, "those fliers that you were going to hand out, get them ready. Also, change into one of your flashy stage costumes. We're going to need them. I'll be back in ten minutes, so I want everything prepared."

As he slides the door closed, "Wait!" Iori shouts.

Sticking his head back in with a questioning glare.

"I'm going with you!"

"Excuse me? I need you to get ready."

"It'll just take me a second to get changed!"

Iori wasn't sure why, but she felt she couldn't let him out of her sight. Or maybe, she couldn't stand not being in his presence. Something was scaring her, and she felt that if she left his side this creeping feeling might gobble her whole.

After insisting that be translated, Ritsuko says, "(Iori, you should just let him go. He'll be back in a minute.)"

Jordan didn't hear the translation, but he figures, "Sure, I guess so. Just, come on, we got to hurry." And as he steps away from the SUV, "I swear she's like a puppy."

Iori flies out of her outfit and into a pink and white glittery costume. Mainly it consists of a tight pair of pants, and a midriff exposing, sleeveless hoddie. There were accessories, but she left them behind. A little over 30 seconds passed.

"Ready!" and she was out of the vehicle.

Jordan and Richie were standing in front of the SUV facing the street (so they couldn't see the girls changing), and when he was joined by Iori he waved the translator "bye" and took off again with his original companion.

Their destination was obvious, as they were heading towards the main traffic flow of The Strip, but there was still a distance to walk. In that time there was something Iori wanted to say, but she didn't know what. Maybe it wasn't a want as much as it was a need.

"Just like old times," he says, breaking her out of her nervousness. "Me leading you and you following dutifully behind. This is the first time we've been alone since we got you back to your friends."

Now that he said it, he was right. This was the first time Jordan and Iori had been alone since Ryuuguu Komachi had been reunited. Only one day ago, yet it seemed much longer.

"You're right. Things have been going at a hundred kilometers an hour that it's hard to feel that it wasn't long ago."

"You are," and he pauses, hesitates, "glad that you found your friends, right? I can't imagine you had that much fun following an old man around."

"You're not that old!"

"You thought I was a grandpa!"

"I-" and Iori bit her tongue. "Ow!"

"Heh, that's what you get! But, you don't need to say anything, I think I know what you mean. It's been fun for me too, but it can only go on for so much longer. In a little over 24 hours, you'll go on that stage and all our hard work will be staring you right in the face. A packed concert hall with thousands of newly drafted fans all cheering for you. Or at least that's the plan."

It was fun, and still is. Not everyone might be having as much fun as her, but there's something to be said about how he can lighten the mood simply by being there. Ami certainly seemed to brighten considerably, and even Azusa is attracted to him in one way or another. Ritsuko would come around most certainly. Everything was going smoothly, so why did it feel so fragile?

"Do you really think we can sell out the concert?"

"It won't be easy," Jordan puts it honestly. "The key is to draw attention, start rumors, and put your guys' faces out there. The people who live here in Las Vegas have seen just about everything. If we want them to come out to see us, we need to show them something new. Well, show them something new and win them over with your _charming_ personality."

And he was insinuating she hadn't one? "Ha! Cute and charming Iori has only to give a slight bow and the masses will certainly recognize her regal elegance! That will be a piece of cake!"

Jordan snorts, halfway humored and halfway condescending, "Well, that's what we're betting on. Then again, if you weren't you'd never had made it to Vegas."

"It was a matter of inevitability."

Oh-so-matter-of-factly she placed her hands on her hips and sticks out her chest.

They arrive at the main sidewalk and are welcomed by hundreds of pedestrian shuffling to their next location. Somewhat does this remind Iori of Tokyo, but in Japan those busy crosswalks are filled with people who march with the near-lifeless drive to make it to work. Here is much more relaxed. People of all ethnicity are taking their time, seeing the sights, talking and enjoying the company of their companions. There are couples, families, large groups, and the occasional single all heading this way and that. Before Iori wondered how the two of them looked to others, but now with his beard shaved and profile cleaned, how would they look now? Iori stopped before she got too far ahead of herself.

This street was immediately familiar. Directly ahead was the casino with the massive fountain, to the right was the Roman Forum, and to the left a mockup of the Eiffel Tower. She hadn't been there yet, and hoped she had the time.

"What are we doing back here?"

"Well, from what I can tell this is the busiest intersection of Vegas, so it's not a bad place for a PR stunt. Anyway, it's best to start with what's familiar."

Leading the way, they climbed the steps up the bridge and crossed the street, once again briefly entering the hotel in the same manner as yesterday. They turned a corner and made it to the bridge leading to the Roman hotel. Outside of the normal masses walking to and fro, there was a brown-skinned man sitting on the floor next to an ice chest.

Retrieving money from his wallet, Jordan hands him $20 and says, _"Dos aguas para mí y la niña, por favor."_

At first Iori didn't know what he said, but the words came as incredibly familiar. It took a second, but she realized he was speaking Spanish, one of the many languages she understands.

"(Here you go,)" the man responds, handing them two bottle waters.

In the next moment he shuffles around for their change, but Jordan waves it off.

"(Keep it. I want to ask you a few questions.)"

"(You a cop?)"

"(No, but that's what I want to ask you about. It's illegal to sell up here without a permit or license, right? What do you do when they come around?)"

"(They fine us about a hundred bucks, but they can only fine us once a day. After that they have to leave us alone.)"

"(What about casino security?)"

"(The bridge is public property, they can't do nothin.)"

Jordan rubs his now hairless chin as he thinks. "(I've seen you guys before, pulling out of that van at the bus stop, you guys move like SWAT. Why do you keep moving around?)"

"(We don't just work this corner, but a bunch of them. $100 is still a lot of money, and we might not make a profit if we get caught too often. So we move around.)"

"(How do you know when to move?)"

"(The cops here are lazy. They move like clockwork. We can time it, about 10 minutes here or there, and we know they're close. On the busier weekends, we'll have a lookout.)"

"(Do you have a lookout right now?)"

"(Normally we don't on a Thursday, but it's the Marine's birthday, so there's a lot of extra traffic around. This is like a holiday for us. We got people all throughout The Strip. I don't think we need them, though. This crowd isn't rowdy so their isn't a lot more cops than normal.)"

"(Can you keep an eye out for us too?)"

"(Yeah, I guess. What are you going to be doing?)"

Jordan stands up and points to the hotel across the street, "(We're going to be dancing and singing over there.)"

The man leans over and looks, "(Yeah, I see, like those costume guys. But nobody really bothers them. I don't think you need us.)"

Chuckling, "(Oh, we're going to be causing one heck of a ruckus. I'm sure we'll draw a lot of attention to ourselves, and we don't want _them_ asking us any questions.)"

"(Yeah, I see. Give me your cellphone number; we tell each other by text. I'll let you know when they're getting close. You'll have about three minutes to move.)"

After doing as he was instructed, "_Muchas gracias. Adiós._"

What was Iori supposed to do at this moment? Clearly he wouldn't know she spoke Spanish, and least of all understood the entire conversation. Was he planning on doing something dangerous or illegal? Was that why he was keeping everything hush-hush? Knowing that much, how was Iori supposed to respond?

"Come on Iori," Jordan was already a few steps ahead of her.

She had to do something, else he would become suspicious, "Wow, what were talking about with that nice man?"

Jordan hands her a water, "I was asking him where I could sell a little Japanese girl into the Slave Market."

Iori's expression at the moment was a mixture of confusion, surprise, panic, and understanding. He was lying, outrageously so, but he did so to make light of the shady conversation that was taking place. It was a joke to ease her nerves.

"Oh, funny. Ha ha."

Jordan stops walking, allowing the girl to run into him. Iori backs away in shock, rubbing her face in slight discomfort. The look on his face is accusing.

"That wasn't the response you were supposed to make."

Sighing, he opens the heavy door into the casino.

"I saw you, you were following our conversation. You speak Spanish, don't you?"

Iori went red from ear-to-ear as if she'd just walked in on her parents arguing over a lipstick mark on her dad's collar. It wasn't her intention to overhear anything, but she couldn't turn her brain off to not understand something she normally could.

"It's alright I guess," Jordan surrenders. "You at least understand why I'm doing this, right?"

There was no mention of her being in trouble, but Iori still felt guilty, "I think so. You want to give us as much publicity as possible."

"That's right. With our constraint on time, we can't exactly do everything by the book. I didn't think you'd have a problem if I out and told you, but I'm worried about Ritsuko."

"Ritsuko?"

"Yeah, she's wound up so tight, she'd start a fire if she sat down. If I gave her too much time to think about what I planning, she'd flip. We _can't _have that in this stage of the game now."

Iori understood. Ritsuko has had it out for Jordan the moment those two met. Knowing that they were unknowingly being led into a crime wasn't good reconciliation. A smart girl, she'd eventually figure it out, but better so after the fact.

As she's led back out to the bridge, "What have I gotten myself into?" she whines to herself.


	19. 19 Overture

Chapter 19

Overture

People were becoming suspicious with three costume-clad Japanese girls standing around and waiting for a sharp-dressed, long-haired man setting up a computer and speakers. Iori, and the other girls too, were getting embarrassed just standing there. In reality it was only a minute, but under the stares of some many foreigner-born vacationers, it felt infinitely long.

Before having them step foot in public, Jordan went over a basic rundown of what he planned. Ryuuguu Komachi were going to sing and dance right on Las Vegas Boulevard. A simple enough concept, but they had neither the music, space, nor permission to do so. The local ensured them that (amateur) performers always occupy that area of the sidewalk without receiving a hassle. He explained that in the past it was highly regulated and anyone dreaming of doing so would quickly get shut down and fined. This changed less then a year ago with the downturn of the economy. It was a quick and inexpensive way to draw attention to their hotel, and it was more damaging to turn them away then to let them be. So in the end these (amateur) entertainers were allowed, if not exactly encouraged. Still being the middle of the week, Ryuuguu Komachi shouldn't have much competition with whom to contend.

As for the music, he had his computer. Hidden away in that backpack of his was small stereo speakers that he claimed would do the trick. It was hard to imagine they could, as they were so small, but Jordan assured them they had a big bite. Perhaps in an office setting they could, but out in the open...Everyone was reluctant to believe in him, but he cooingly laughed at their reluctance.

What kept their Guerilla Live from starting immediately was Jordan looking for a power outlet, but finding nothing. Iori figures from his grumblings that this wasn't a huge issue and that he had alternatives at his disposal. Sure enough he went back to his sack and produced a rather peculiar looking cord. It had an insert like for a wall outlet, but two plugs that went to his computer. After plugging everything together, he gave them the signal that they were ready.

Now that Iori thought about it, Jordan hadn't ever heard her sing. For him it was just an idea, something he had to imagine without having any past experience off which to base a estimate. Perhaps this was why he was always so reluctant to believe she was an Idol. To Jordan, this was their debut. A warm and deep feeling blossoms in Iori's chest and all her hair stand on end. A smile is inseparable from her lips and her body surges with energy. Ryuuguu Komachi's first song overseas would be dedicated to him.

At a volume unheard of from speakers so small, the music starts to play. Somewhat shocked, they don't let this deter them from hitting their cue and dancing. It's a bit techno with a keyboard solo in an almost ballroom rhythm. Without microphones they'll have to sing a bit louder then in normal performances. Long ago were the days of not being able to sing outside their comfort zones. Like professionals, they would give it their all. Iori began, "_Yoru no ~ chuushajou de ~ anata wa nanimo iwanai mama_."

If there was one regret, it was that Iori couldn't see the expression now on Jordan's face. During this mini-concert it was his duty to man his computer and keep the songs going. All of which was done behind their backs. He also chose the set-list. This was _Relations_, and next was _Go My Way_, _Kosmos Cosmos__,_ and _CHANGE!_ Unsurprisingly he was only picking songs with English titles, but then again he couldn't even read the ones written in Kanji.

Peeking people's curiosities before, mostly they continued to pass them by. As they started their performance, this wasn't just catching their attention, but demanding it. Those who were heading towards their next place, looking not to be late, were stopping in their tracks to see what was taking place. More than stopping and looking, they were beginning to gather.

At the end of their first song, a more then courteous applause was given. A momentum was starting to build. To those who might be interested, Ritsuko and Richie were handing out the fliers promoting their concert tomorrow night. Many people who were watching were still on the fence about their enjoyment level, and some were walking away. Iori looks back towards Jordan, their conductor. If he wasn't a believer, he is now. An energetic and challenging grin is plastered on his face, and he nods for them to keep going.

All three sing at once, "_Go my way ~ Go mae e ~ ganbatte yukimashou ~ ichiban daisuki na ~ watashi ni naritai._"

More people are staying, and the crowd grows larger and larger. Were they being judged on their singing, dancing, or costumes? This felt very much like an audition, but instead of a panel of judges, they were appealing to the public. Each and every one of them were a judge, but were they looking at one particular aspect, or their unity as a whole? It was a silly thing to think about. All they really had to do was put their hearts in their performance, and that would be what pierces through the language barrier.

Becoming slightly distracted, Iori wonders if Jordan would still have given his aid if Iori hadn't spoken English. Coming to her naturally, the answer was obvious. Of course he would. Was that Iori's ability or his, being able to completely expose or identify the warmth in their hearts? At the very least, Iori felt she was coming closer to this ideal.

Their second song ends with a much more enthusiastic applause. Pedestrians have been filtering in and out as they sang, but they were still on-edge from deciding. Their third song needs to hit them hard and bring it home.

What Iori wanted was _Smokey Thrill_, but Jordan hadn't added that to the queue, so she told him, "Forget _Kosmos Cosmos_, and go straight to _CHANGE!_"

A little shaken that he was being given orders, the man shook it off and did as he was instructed.

A higher tempo, higher energy song, they begin like a Formula 1 racer at the green light, "_Changin' my world, __kawaru sekai kagayake __~ Changin' my world,__ watashi no sekai watashi no mono CHANGE!_"

This sudden change didn't go unnoticed by the crowd. As with any great performer, the energy of the girls "on-stage" was being transferred to them. Now the connection had been fully established. Almost like a roar they start to shout and cheer. People are taking pictures, recording it on camera, and sharing what they're hearing with whomever on their phones. At this point Ritsuko and Richie stopped handing out fliers, and were instead having them taken. In the middle of their dance, Iori spots Azusa looking directly at her with an overjoyed expression that says, "Can you believe this?" Ami too is signaling, "This is amazing!" Very well does Iori feel this also, and that is communicated through her insurmountable confidence and enormous presence. As her footfalls stomp on the ground the entire audience shakes. Perhaps this was their greatest achievement; winning over an almost completely indifferent crowd. Even their shows back home lacked this kind of electricity.

Thunderous applause welcomes the completion of their song. With the excellent mood as it was now, it was a great time for the smoother, softer _Kosmos Cosmos_. As Iori was going to give Jordan the signal, she turns to find him hastily packing his equipment.

Immediately she was brought down from her high. They weren't supposed to be doing this. Exactly how it was wrong she wasn't completely sure, but she knew by now to trust his judgment. They had to leave, and now.

"(Azusa, Ami, we got to go.)"

Her two companions were a bit startled by this announcement, but because it would leave the audience wanting more it wasn't necessarily a bad idea and they accept.

However, Iori couldn't exactly leave it at that, "Thank you everybody! We are Ryuuguu Komachi, and we have come all the way from Japan! If you want to see us Live and On-Stage, make sure to come to our concert at the Green Valley Ranch tomorrow night! We hope to see you all there!"

Normally it wasn't the greatest of ideas to rush through the crowd after a concert. While every idol appreciates their fans, there are some who's devotion crosses into an obsessed state. If she ever tried to brush through them while they were at their most energetic, she could come to expect an inappropriate touch or two. However, something close didn't happen. As they announced their conclusion, the crowd gradually parted in two. In all there might have been close to a hundred people, but that was only by estimate as Iori couldn't see well into a crowd were everybody was taller than her. However, making them part with her small body gave her no shortage of pride. Some were still applauding as they passed, and they even gestured to shake a hand or two. Azusa and Ami might have wanted to spend a bit more time in this environment, but Jordan made sure to shuffle them out of there without alarming them of the direness of their position.

"(That was awesome oniichan!)" Jordan didn't need a translator to understand Ami's sense of accomplishment.

"(I think we cut it off too soon,)" Ritsuko still found a way to complain.

"Don't worry about that," Jordan assures her, "we more then accomplished our goal."

"(Really? How many do you think will come to our Live?)"

He doesn't pull any punches, "A dozen. Maybe half."

Ritsuko's mood drops and silently asks by expression alone, "Then why did we waste our time?"

Continuing, "Did you see all the people taking pictures and recording you guys? _That_ was our objective. I guarantee that they are Twittering, putting the video on YouTube, and posting on their Facebook everything that just happened. It's free press! With any luck it'll go viral and draw attention to our concert."

Iori knew that Ritsuko wouldn't admit it, but that was a great idea. With their lack of time they couldn't go for the little bit of attention here and there, what they needed was for their popularity to snowball. To achieve this they needed to preform some outrageous feats. This kind of show, and it went over very well, was a great first step.

"(Do you really think it was enough?)"

Shaking his head, "Naw. That's why we're going to do it two more times. We gotta hurry up and get to our next location!"

"(Eh?)"

. . .

Their blitz of performances continued in much of the same manner of the first. Their second show was in front of a circus themed hotel. Perhaps it was the more hazardous of spots as they only managed two songs before he rushed them off. Honestly, it wasn't the best choices of locations. Certainly as there foot traffic, but there were two sites very nearby that were under construction and desolate. Also it didn't seem as clean as the first.

After that they ventured very far north to a string of hotels that had a different feel then those on The Strip. If Iori had to put a word to it, she would have said it was more "Classic" Vegas; what was seen in old Hollywood movies and what those in Japan generally associated with the iconic township. Bright lights and plenty of neon. There was even a giant Television screen overhead that stretched the entire block of casinos and hotels.

Pausing so that he could recharge his laptop, Ryuuguu Komachi was given time to wander around. Jordan found an outlet in some dark back alley, but they most certainly couldn't sing here. Since there was no way he'd leave his computer alone, he was left behind.

As they explored, there was more than a time or two where Ritsuko had to shield the eyes of the two youngest idols. Of course they wouldn't accept being treated this way, so as they protested they saw what the commotion was about. Every here and there were posters advertising "Adult" entertainment. Shows, clubs, and even women that came to you. Even Ami was old enough to understand from what she was being shielded. This wasn't anything Iori hadn't seen before in her adventures, but Ritsuko was up in arms the first time it was brandished in her face. Even Azusa had to laugh at the manager's over-reaction. However, this gave Iori some insight into Ritsuko apparent dislike of Jordan. Jordan represented Las Vegas, and Ritsuko had an innate dislike of the types of "entertainment" the city represented. She was only looking at the city on it's face, not what was underneath. Same was true with Jordan, except that even if he did change his face, she couldn't let go of her initial prejudice. This Iori would have to change.

"(Listen, Iori, about Jordan,)" Ritsuko had a tone that was all too familiar, and frankly, Iori was sick of hearing it, "(I'm certain we can't trust him. I'm sure he's-)"

"(That's enough!)" Iori shouts as her limit had finally been reached. "(Ever since you first laid eyes on him you hated him! He's done nothing but help us, and you haven't even given him a chance!)"

This outburst erupted like a steam valve whose pressure's long since entered red. The anger and frustration spewed from her words like a geyser. Not only did it strike Ritsuko as surprising, and a little bit frightening, but Azusa and Ami as well. If they were trying to ignore this tension that had been building, they couldn't anymore. Iori well understood that what was about to be said couldn't be unsaid, and that her choice of words could have dire consequences, but she could let this stand no longer.

"(Iori! Listen to me! He's-)"

"(He's what? A good person? Completely unselfish? My friend? If you don't like him then fine, but can't you trust my judgment?)"

"(He's a murderer!)"

Iori's breath stopped. What did she say? Of all the outlandish things she could accuse, a murderer? Nothing Iori has seen could even point to such an accusation, yet Ritsuko says so without even a fistful a knowledge about him?

"(You have got to be kidding. Of all the accuses you could think of, this was the best you got? Why don't you just say you don't like it when the two of us are together?)"

"(I've seen people like him Iori. It's been bugging me since I first saw him, but I only recently realized what it was. The way he's built, the way he dresses, the way he walks, I'm sure he's-)" she stops herself.

"What's going on?"

Iori quickly spins around to find Jordan standing there, his eyes no less than a little concerned.

"Jordan," Iori found a sudden loss of strength in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you guys shouting," and he emits a pitiful laugh, "and I had a feeling it was about me. So I came to see what's up."

Richie, who's presence was either forgotten or universally ignored, heard the entire conversation as well, "Ritsuko says you're a-"

Iori cuts him off, "I'll do it. Ritsuko is calling you a murderer."

His reaction was the last Iori could have expected. He looked, wounded.

"Y-you don't say."

Of everyone here, Iori's heart-rate skyrocketed to perhaps dangerous levels. Couldn't he have laughed it off or made a joke like he normally does? Why in the world does he have a look of guilt? An icy chill instantly crept through her entire body. If she had the strength she would have run away, but fear, confusion, and morbid curiosity kept her feet planted firmly on the ground. No matter what she had to hear what he had to say.

"(Yes, I'm certain,)" Ritsuko speaks slowly, forcing Iori to translate, "(you were a solider.)"

As the words flowed through Ritsuko's mouth in Japanese, and Iori's through English, the realization that her manager was telling the truth immediately dawned. That simple statement made a great deal of sense. His build, his tidy apartment, the way he walks, his boots, how he praised the US Marine Corps, to how he reacted when asked by that Colonel where he served. Iori didn't understand how she couldn't have seen it before. Others certainly had. Serving in the military meant you had to be prepared to take a life, and also maybe lose your own. Iori didn't believe this was shameful. Others might, but she doesn't. So why couldn't she shake this unease? If anything she should be able to accept this past, yet why is she still so scared?

"That's right. I was a solider."

"(You American soliders are all the same, nothing but a bunch of hired murderer! You trample around the globe, act like everyone has to answer to you, and shoot and kill whoever you like! I've seen them in Japan, how they trickle off base, go out and get drunk, and wreck everything around them. They'll get in fights, brag about all the people they've killed, and they're completely disrespectful to Japanese women. They're nothing more than a bunch of murderous barbarians! You aren't any different!)"

Ritsuko kept repeating the word "murder." Japan doesn't have an army, only the Self Defense Force who's sole task is to defend. Most born in that peaceful country don't understand that some times you have to fight for that peace. Iori has seen it in Iraq, Sudan, Somalia, Syria, the Tibetan repression in China. Those who never leave their safe shell of a country sometimes can't even see evil when it's presented right in front of them. Not to defend those crimes that the American military commits by the hands of unruly individuals, but a time does come when action must be taken. Yet, the idea of Jordan being former military frightened her when it shouldn't. His sorrowful eyes, filled with guilt, are hiding an even darker secret.

"You're right, I'm not any different. I've killed people, a lot of people." His face underwent a frightening transformation. His eyes drop, all the muscles in his face relax, tension leaves his body. At that moment his emotions are killed. There is no fear, no anger, and there is none of that joviality which Iori so sorely missed. He didn't even look human. He was like a doll. "I've even killed women and children."

Iori couldn't translate anymore. Jordan's admission weaved a concoction in her throat and she couldn't speak. She could barely breath. Tears roll down her face as everything she thought she knew about the man shatters. A lie, a lie, it was all a lie. His words can speak only the truth, so she knew this wasn't a cruel joke or a bad dream. This was a living nightmare.

Seeing her companion's devastated state, Azusa rushes to Iori's side and holds her. The eldest of the idols doesn't know what he'd just said, but by all accounts she knew it wasn't good. Ami, who heard the words being translated but perhaps didn't completely understand them, could only meekly approach her elder and offer support. Richie was forced to finish translating.

Like a thunderbolt, his words effect everyone who hears them. Ritsuko, who harbored along with her hate and small fear, was now utterly terrified. Her feet were frozen to the ground and a cold sweat quickly began to drench her body. What stood before her was no longer a man or even a brute, but a monster, one who could snap at any sudden movement and rip her body to shreds. Every ounce of regret she should have felt are now suffocating her. It was worse then she imagined; she never should have pried; she has just opened Pandora's Box and all the evils from within have escaped. How long had she trained in martial arts, and now it seemed so utterly useless. She thought she was protecting her idols, that if push came to shove she could throw her own body into the mix. There was even a time when she acted as a police woman. But now she realizes she lacks the steeled temperament to stand before a greater foe. She's just a fake, a fake who can't act when it's most important. This entity known as Jordan Huntsman, he exposes all her weaknesses.

He approaches. Marching past Iori with the stride of a stalking lion, he heads directly towards Ritsuko. Azusa, sensing mortal danger, quickly darts between the two, shielding her immobile manager. His focus turns to her. Stopped by this barricade, he doesn't press his advance. To the one who was courageous, he retrieves from his pocket and places the contents in her hand. It was the car keys.

After that he says nothing and walks away.

* * *

><p><em>Wow, wasn't that a kick in the gut. This chapter turned out a bit darker than I originally planned, but hey, when a story has legs...Now I imagine you readers have your own thoughts about the US Military, and I have mine as well, but so do the character in this story, and <strong>their's <strong>__are what's reflected in my writing. Ritsuko's dislike is perhaps my biggest leap in my story, cause I'm not entirely sure how her character would react in this situation. I do know, however, that she isn't afraid to use force, but I don't know about lethal force. Well, if this story was all flowers and rainbows, it wouldn't have been written by me._

_This marks the climax of the Jordan subplot, but there is still plenty of story left. By my estimate, we're about 2/3 through. For a few chapters the focus will be put squarely on this Original Character, and all the secrets he's hiding, but after that we'll be entering the final arc. The time of the concert is rapidly approaching, ARE YOU READY?_

_~Kyle Castorena_


	20. 20 Growth

Chapter 20

Growth

After what happened, there was nothing more that could be done. The energy and spirit from Ryuuguu Komachi had been completely drained. So much had been dedicated to Jordan's plan that with him gone everything fell apart. Dawn was approaching and several good hours remain in the day, but with this mood nothing constructive would be accomplished. Richie was forced to drive them home, and after arriving at the hotel, called it a day.

Only silence could accommodate their suite after what they've just been through. All four girls sat in the living room simply waiting for someone to say something. The problem was, there was nothing that could be said. Their whole purpose for coming to Las Vegas was their concert, but at this moment not a single thought was directed at this goal. Everything that happened on the North side of town kept repeating itself in all their heads.

"(I'm going to lay down,)" Ritsuko was first to break the silence.

However, no one acknowledges her, and she removes herself as if she were completely ignored.

Who should have been least effected by Jordan's absence were Azusa and Ami. To them his presence should have been the least significant. Tonight, tomorrow, and the day after should go on without him here. To them, his role was that of a guide, someone who could point out all the shortcuts and safely deliver them to their destination. However, that didn't mean they couldn't make it without him at the helm. Ritsuko must have seen him as a bit of a rival, and frankly, while they were in this place he was her better. By tomorrow she should come out of her slump, and there was little doubt she wouldn't. The problem was Iori. It was hard for the two girls to understand exactly what the older man meant to her, but it was clear his departure was a critical blow. Would she be able to recover in time for the concert? And if not, what should they do?

Iori sat lifelessly on the sofa leaning to one side. The swelling from her crying had lessened, and in an hour's time it'd be completely gone. Now she was inorganic and still, almost like a mannequin. If it wasn't for the weak motions of her chest from her breathing, one would never know she was alive. There was no way a person like this could jump on stage and sing in 24 hours.

Ami, more than anyone, was fidgeting as she wants to say something, but there were no words of which she was capable to say that would move Iori's heart. The young girl wishes her sister were here. The Ami/Mami combination could help lift anyone's mood, but divided they were less then half of what they were together. Completely helpless, she was resigned to silence.

Slightly could Azusa relate to the mood of her younger idol companion, but this situation was very unique. At a simply glance Iori looks as if she were just dumped by her boyfriend, but the complexity of reality made her emotions twisted and distorted. While Azusa was still in college, before debuting as an idol, there was more then a time or two where she stayed with a friend to help them cope with relationship troubles (and in college, there were hardly any trouble other than that), but those experiences now seemed insignificant in comparison. How exactly Iori viewed Jordan, Azusa wasn't completely sure, but she knew the same type of talk with her college friends wouldn't work.

"(What should we do?)" Ami whispers to Azusa.

The eldest didn't know for sure, but she knew this silence couldn't continue. Before forming Ryuuguu Komachi, the three idols that made the group weren't exactly close friends. They were coworkers and generally got along well with each other, but not all relationships at 765 Productions were created equal. Iori's closest friend within the company was Yayoi, and that probably wouldn't change no matter with whom the downcast idol would be paired. If that energetic, tiny little girl were here she could definitely improve on this situation, but she wasn't and they would have to do without.

If there was anything for certain, they need to get Iori talking. Amongst Ryuuguu Komachi, the closest to the Minase heiress was Ritsuko. Iori has much respect towards the working woman, but she was a big part of the girl's inner conflict. Also had she removed herself from their presence. Thus the role fell upon Azusa, even if she didn't know the best route to take. The woman takes a deep breath and gathers her courage.

"(Iori,)" she calls, not exactly sure what she's going to say next, "(how did you feel about Huntsman-san?)"

There was no answer, but that might have been because the girl herself didn't know. Iori shared what happened with Jordan when she was lost, but she might not have shared everything. Without knowing for certain, Azusa had to be careful not to make any assumptions. That being the case, there was little option for her.

"(When I first saw him,)" Azusa continues, "(I thought he was a very dashing man. Actually, I was taken back a little bit. As you grow older, the issue of age becomes less and less of a concern. He seemed like someone who was very capable of taking care of someone else, and I still don't think I was wrong. But he was kind of hard to approach. The language barrier was a part of it, but mostly it was because he hardly ever looked my way. When you grow up a little bit more, you'll learn about it too. The way some men look at you changes. That change is because they are 'interested.' I didn't sense any of that from Huntsman-san. It felt like he didn't care what I thought. I'm a big girl and I've had that happen before. Actually, it happens a lot, ha. So I felt it was okay if I just left him alone and let him do his own thing, but then he shaved his beard and said it was because he thought we were frightened of him. It felt like he wasn't 'interested' but he cared how I felt about him. I was a bit confused, so I-)"

"(He called you 'beautiful' when he first saw you.)"

Azusa and Ami were shaken by the sudden interruption. For the first time in an hour's time, Iori spoke. For the most part she was still like a doll, but some of the color in her face returned and she was much more alive. This was a good thing that Azusa was doing.

"(Really? Then he was just merely flattering me, because there was nothing in his eyes that would have made me believe he was being serious.)"

This causes a major reaction in Iori. From her position she turns to look at Azusa, her expression confused.

"(What do you mean he wasn't being serious? You are very beautiful.)"

It wasn't surprising that she would think that. Azusa was well aware that her height and proportions gathered a many of stares, but beauty was in the eye of the beholder. To explain this to the teenage adolescent, all she could think to say was,

"(Then I guess I'm not his type.)"

Life completely returned to Iori's profile. Turning away, she needs some time to process this new information.

Now wasn't the time to press _that_ issue, so Azusa returns to her original point she was going to make, "(When he shaved his beard, I felt very guilty. He was trying to appease us and make us more comfortable, but he felt like he failed. I wanted to do something to try and make it up to him, but we could never get on the same page. I guess in the end neither of us could understand one another.)"

"(What do you think his type is?)"

Azusa smiles. There was no way the woman could answer that question, and actually, Iori should have known what type herself. It was because she asked that Azusa could make a guess,

"(Well, Ryuuguu Komachi is a pretty diverse group with completely different personalities. We now know I'm not his type.)"

"(And I don't think I am either,)" Ami has been itching for an opportunity to chime in.

Azusa nods and continues, "(As for Ritsuko, well, I actually think they hate each other. But I guess that puts her closer then Ami or me. Though if I absolutely had to say, it would be-)"

Looking towards Ami, Azusa receives a nod. They both say,

"(You.)"

Iori's face light's up like a Christmas tree. From ear-to-ear does her blood paint her face red. If this room was a few degrees cooler, they might even be seeing steam rise from her head. Her mouth hangs open as if she's trying to deny the accusation, but no words escape.

Azusa accomplished her mission. Iori's previous mood of gloom completely disappeared. However, even as she was now the young idol was still incapable of singing at the best of her ability. That hole in her spirit still needs to be filled. Actually, Azusa didn't believe she could find the answer to that. Only Iori could determine what to make of her own emotions.

"(What do you think of what Huntsman-san told us?)"

In the condition that Iori was in now she was capable of thinking rationally and not letting her emotions control her.

"(He wasn't lying. He really has done terrible things. But,)" for a moment, she hangs on her words.

"(There must have been a reason?)" Azusa tries to finish Iori's thought.

"(He's terribly ashamed of his past. He hates it, and he hates himself. Jordan never wanted us to know what he's done. When Ritsuko called him a murderer, he was terrified.)"

There's more she's feeling but not saying. Iori hangs her head as if she's thinking deeply. Azusa believes her younger companion is struggling to make a decision. Whatever choice she makes, it's paramount that they respect her resolution. Iori may be a very different person after this.

But she still seems to be teetering.

"(I wonder if it's easier for someone else to tell your special destined person, than it is for yourself.)"

"(What?)"

"(Nothing. Just talking to myself.)"

Azusa backs away, catching the curious glare of Ami. She smiles, signaling to the youngest idol "it's okay." Iori, as she is now, is capable of making up her mind.

Five minutes pass after their conversation, and her hesitation has been completely dismissed. Iori stands, swiftly and upright, hands balled into fists, and her head high. For a moment she's still, but then nods to herself. She turns and faces her friends, her long hair graciously swinging behind her. A bold aura envelopes her.

She declares, "(I'm going to see him.)"

Azusa pushed her to make a decision, now she must play devil's advocate.

"(Are you sure? Huntsman-san is an outed and admitted killer. Don't you think it'll be dangerous?)"

This question must have been expected, because Iori doesn't even flinch. Swiftly she turns and reaches for her bag. From it she retrieves a metallic-looking item. It's rectangular in shape, has brass ends on both sides, and polished wood center. Operating the central steel component, it unfolds into a long and distinct shape. It's a knife.

Azusa and Ami both flinch at the sight of the weapon. The bearer simply smiles upon it warmly.

"(When he decided to help me, he gave me this. He said it was for my protection from him. To him, there is no person more dangerous than him. He simply can't accept that he's a good person. The regret he feels is suffocating him, stifling him. I think subconsciously he wanted me to use it. He wanted me to hurt him. He wanted to be hurt. If not for my sake, I need to go for his. He needs to know that it's okay to let it go, that he's a great person and he doesn't need to suffer anymore.)"

Eyes wide with disbelief, Azusa mutters, "(Iori, you-)"

"(I have to go.)" Iori's eyes are strong and determined, without a hint of hesitation or unease. At this moment she looks a decade older than she really is; a beautiful, strong, and mature woman. It makes even Azusa feel inferior.

Stunned, it takes a few seconds before the woman can compose herself and respond, "(What about Ritsuko?)"

"(I'll handle it.)"

And there was no doubt in her words. Nothing in the young girl's profile could be opposed. An air of virtue and authority that rivaled that of kings was wrapped around Iori's mantle. A knight, a crusader, a king, her presence right now encompassed all of these ideals. An army couldn't stop her right now. Azusa could only nod and give her approval, though the woman felt it was unnecessary.

Iori took this gesture graciously, and turns towards the bedroom. Inside the curtain is drawn and very little light leaks through. It's dark, but not enough so that the girl can't find her manager resting upon her bed. Ritsuko's removed her glasses and let her hair down. Most didn't know this, but the young manager and former idol actually has wavy hair, but she always has it cut short and tied up so it's unnoticeable. Laying down like this, unkempt and defenseless, she actually looks her young age of 19.

"(I'm going,)" Iori simply states in the darkness.

There is a moment of silence, but then, "(Do you remember when we first met?)"

"(Yes Ritsuko-san. I don't remember what about, but I was complaining about something. You lambasted to the point I was crying.)"

Still unmoving from her position, "(It's been two years since then. So much has changed. You might not have grown much taller, but you've grown tremendously. I on the other hand, I don't know. I quit being an idol because I wanted to be a Producer, and I don't regret my decision, but every once in a while a wonder what it would be like if I was still on stage instead of behind the scenes. So much of my time is dedicated to producing Ryuuguu Komachi that I hardly have any time for myself. What would be different? Would _I_ be different? But _that man_ has nothing but time, being able to follow someone he just met as much as he wants, and his thoughts and ideas were all better than mine. It's frustrating! Have all my dedication and hard work been for nothing? I hate this!)"

"(And what about all _his_ hard work and dedication?)"

This question catches Ritsuko off-guard, and she leans up from the bed, questioning.

"(Do you know how much pain and suffering he's endured to make it where he is? I can't say anything though, because I don't know.)" Iori then joins Ritsuko on the bed. "(But I _can_ tell he knows pain and suffering. It's written all over his face. Don't think he simply waltzed in a made a fool of you. He's pushed himself, pushed so hard that I'm sure he's limping. Despite that, he's extending a helping hand. You can't judge him just because your frustrated with yourself. True wisdom begins when you admit you don't know everything. Don't let your pride blind you. All of us have room to grow. Perfect is impossible.)"

Sarcastically Ritsuko turns away and laughs, "(When did you start talking so big?)"

"(I can only talk big because of you.)"

Shocked, Ritsuko turns back and stares into Iori's large, clear eyes. The young idol takes her hand.

"(Because of you, and everyone else I met. You can learn a lot from books and studying in school, but there are things you can only do because you've met other people. I think you should meet Jordan. The Jordan I've met is a wonderful person, despite his past, and I'm going to drag him back here no matter what.)"

"(Iori,)" her words are hesitating, "(are you serious?)"

"(Yes.)" Gently she pulls her hands away and lifts herself from the bed. "(I'm going.)"

"(You can't!)" she states with vigor, but that energy quickly depletes as she continues. "(You can't.)"

There wasn't a response. It was somewhat cruel, but there wasn't a need for one. It was clear who between the two was in the position of power. Determination was Iori's alone, and Ritsuko had no choice but to let go. Does a father feel this way when their daughter tells him she's getting married? A little girl can only be a little girl for so long, and then they grow up to be a woman.

"(Be safe,)" was as close as Ritsuko could get to giving her blessing.

Iori's smile was bright, but her eyes still determined, "(Thank you.)"


	21. 21 I am

Chapter 21

I am

This wouldn't be like before. Last time, when she chose to go alone, she had nothing but the clothes on her back and Usa-chan in her arms. Because of this she got horribly lost, and a whole host of other circumstances resulted. It was hard to lament her judgment however. Due to her careless actions she managed to meet someone wonderful. Still, she wasn't going to do that again. This time she had her purse, phone, and money. Something like that wasn't going to repeat itself.

Las Vegas became very familiar to her by now. Her current whereabouts, her landmarks, and other areas nearby, everything was in her head and she could navigate without getting lost. When telling the taxi driver where to go, she had no fear of history repeating itself. She also knew if he was going to give her the runabout to increase his fare. They went West on one freeway, North on the next, and got off at the overpass that Jordan had lead her the day before on their walk. The hotel that casts a shadow over his apartment was now before her.

"It's in the back, turn here."

For a while had the sun disappeared behind the mountains to the West, but a bit a light still brushed the sky a medium-dark azure. However, Las Vegas considers this the start of night. Lights ignite and the buildings are highlighted in neon and other assorted colors. It was a bit funny, but the only time she could experience this sight was the first night after she arrived. In her state she couldn't appropriately appreciate the spectacle. Now it looks so beautiful. Jordan sees this sight every night. Does this ever become old, or does the magic still exist even after long?

Because the gate was down, she had to get off at the end of the parking lot. It shouldn't have been a big deal, as the walk wasn't particularly far, but as she heads towards his apartment Iori was becoming increasingly nervous. All that determination and bravado from back at the hotel has now almost completely washed away. Iori wants to see him, but what if Jordan didn't want to see her? What was she supposed to do then?

Movements becoming robotic, it was a miracle she manages to walk at all. Her heat beating so fast in her chest she could drop dead at any minute. Fingers trembling, sweat dripping from her brow on this cool night, everything points to a disaster in the making. Was it too late to turn around now? No, her friends will never forgive her after the performance she gave. Before she realized it, she'd stopped walking. With an effort she pushes herself forward, now worrying about what she should say after knocking on the door.

Those stairs don't look very safe. As she ascends, her unsteady legs and the loose railing make the task nearly impossible. Heights were never a problem for her, but only now did she fear falling. For a time she had to stop and take a break, but after hearing someone open a door on the first floor, she darts up to the top.

His door is now before her. Iori made it this far, only one more thing stood before her. No amount of forethought could prepare her for this, so she takes a leap and knocks on the door.

"Jordan, are you there? It's me, Iori." There was no answer. Was he ignoring her? "I know Ritsuko might have said some terrible things, but she was just worried about us, and-" she was making excuses and apologies, something she didn't want to do. She starts again. "It doesn't matter what you've done, well, it does, but, well-" no, that wasn't what she meant. "Please, could you open the door? I want to talk to you again. I want to see you."

In her best words, that's what she wanted to say. A simple request, and a simple statement. "I want to see you." This was her ultimate effort. It was up to him to open the door.

The door did not open.

Sadness threatens to overtake her, but she steels herself. Was it supposed to be that easy? Just because she was rejected, was she supposed to give up after just that? No! She couldn't! This was her fight, and she would not lose so easily.

"Everything you've done for us! We really appreciate it! The sacrifices you made! It was cruel of us to let you walk away! I don't want it to end that way!"

Still, only silence.

Tears bit at her eyes, but she would not allow herself to cry. But her strength was draining and she needs a rest. Lowering herself, she sits with her back to the door.

"You know, I didn't tell everything to my friends when we were reunited. There were some things I wanted to keep to myself. Actually, when you came back this morning, I was a jealous. A little bit because you called Azusa beautiful, but also because I realized I wouldn't be keeping you all to myself anymore. I'm sorry for being selfish, and I'm sorry if I were ever rude to you. Sometimes it's hard for me to be honest with other people, and maybe even with myself. Hey, and that question Ami asked but I wouldn't translate, she asked if you liked younger girls. Heh, how could you? Someone as immature and selfish as me. Impossible, right?"

There was a noise, but it was the door next to his that opens. It's a kid maybe only a couple years older than her. Sticking his head through the gap, it's a bald young man of Asian decent. Iori doubts he'll recognize her.

For a very awkward moment he stares at her. Iori smiles weakly and waves. The kid pulls himself back inside and slams the door. So that was Jordan's neighbor. She didn't know what to make of that.

That short encounter drained some of the willpower out of her. Was she wasting her time? Was she only being a nuisance? Maybe it was time she shut up and wait for Jordan to make up his mind. Surely he wouldn't leave her to sit at his doorstep without giving a word, would he? No. He'll either let her in, or tell her to go home. She could only wait and hope.

But before she goes silent, there was one more thing she had to say, "You shouldn't have shaved your beard. I didn't think it looked bad."

No daylight remained, but because of all the Las Vegas neon the stars didn't come out. Looking to her left Iori sees the backside of the hotel with the fountains. To the right were the massive towers that were supposed to be a miniature city all on one lot. An ambitious product, the daughter of Minase was surprised to learn it was finished at all, but as she heard it they have to implode one of the towers. It wouldn't be surprising if her family actually owned one of those lofts.

"Iori?"

That voice could only belong to one person, only it wasn't coming from the door, but the stairs.

"Jor!" quickly followed by, "den?"

It was the man alright, but there was a haggard expression on his face, his backpack slung over his shoulder, and a case of beer in his hand so large it might have been better to call it a crate. This wasn't exactly the reunion she was expecting to make. It couldn't be possible that Iori-

"Did I beat you here?"

"What do you expect?" for the first time, she hears his raised voice. "You decided to make your dramatic revelation all the way on the far side of The Strip! Do you know how many buses I had to take, and how long I had to wait at each stop? It took me two hours just to get on this side of the freeway!"

Cowering at his voice, but for some reason she isn't exactly scared. This was exactly the kind of tone Iori remembers, the halfway playing and halfway serious joking he did. It was if nothing happened this afternoon, and he was mad at her for ditching him on a date. All then tension and stress bolted out of her muscles, but it was replaced by something else. He was gone, so he heard absolutely none of her confessions from the heart. Would she have to say all that again? She'd die of embarrassment!

"I-um-that is-we were-" Iori was a stuttering mess.

Jordan sighs and brushes past her. Placing his crate of beer on the ground (it's so heavy Iori can feel the ground shake beneath her feet) he goes into his pocket and retrieves his keys. Without saying a word he takes his beer and goes inside. Iori fidgets, not knowing if she should follow.

"What are you doing? Come on in."

"Yes!" and she scampers inside.

This was the point she wanted to make it to, but now that she's here she doesn't know what to say. The first thing that pops into her mind is,

"Why do you have all that beer? Were you throwing a party or something?"

He answers, "No. I was planning to get so plastered I'd forget this day ever happened."

Definitely was he sour, but Jordan didn't exactly sound mad. Iori knew what this was; he was restraining himself, but this tone was the same as when he always talked. Does this mean he was always restraining himself? After everything she experienced, and what she now knows, it's difficult to think it's not true. Was this not why she returned her in the first place? Didn't she want to help him, help him just as he helped her?

"Stop that!" she shouts. "Stop trying to act like everything's okay!"

Jordan's pauses halfway to the kitchen, an expression that's beyond shock, "What in the world are you talking about?"

"You! Quit acting like what happened doesn't bother you! It's okay to get mad! It's okay to get angry! Just stop acting like everything's fine and normal!"

His confusion doesn't leave that easily, but he puts his crate back down on the ground and joins Iori in the living room.

"I think I know what's going on, but you've got the wrong idea. I'm not mad, or angry. What I've done is my fault alone. It's not right that I get upset at you or any of the other girls."

"But it's not fair!"

"'Fair' has nothing to do with it. It is the way it is. I've made peace with my sins, and I'm living my life dealing with the consequences."

Those tears were threatening her again, "But, you can't. A person like you shouldn't have to suffer like this. It's just too sad!"

Jordan sighs again, scratching his head as he searches for the words to say next, "I won't deny that I'm suffering, as I guess it's pretty obvious, but it's not because of guilt."

Something about that felt odd. No longer was she on the verge of crying, but his statement seems off. He didn't feel guilty because he killed women and children? Could that possibly be right?

"I know what your thinking. What I told you was only half of the story. Actually, you're the only ones I've told _that _half. Everybody else knows the other, and that's the one that'll follow me wherever I go."

Only half? What possibly could be more terrible then what he's already said?

"Could you tell me, everything that's happened?"

Dropping his head in overly-dramatic fashion, "I knew you were going to ask that. Well, I guess I'll be making good use of all this beer after all."

. . .

After tiding up a few things and allowing himself to cool down, he starts his story as he sits on the floor, leaning against the coach, "I guess I'll start with why I decided to enlist in the Army. Back in High School I was a tall, skinny, nerdy kind of kid. Computers and video games were my life. Well, I worked as an unpaid intern at a television station. Been doing it for a couple of years. I was a wiz with cameras, lighting, and all the sound equipment. Likely could have gotten a paid position right out of High School, but something happened. I only managed to intern at the TV station because I worked the morning news program, and after that I'd go to school. I jumped around positions to wherever they needed that day. Camera Operator, Sound Engineer, stuff like that. _That_ particular day I was working as Technical Director. That's the person who controls what's actually broadcasted on-air. We were in the middle of a normal morning show, when the news wires explode telling us that a plane flew into one of the Twin Towers. It sounded too unreal to be true. In less then a few minutes we had the live satellite feed and we all saw it for ourselves; smoke billowing from it's side as if it were hit with a rocket. We all thought it was terrible accident, so we all thought it was just one of those things. It was getting late and I had to get to school, so I was just about to hand over my station when I saw the second plane run into the other tower. I didn't go to school that day."

Jordan took a bit of the break. He was already on his third beer. The crate sat next to him on his right while he was piling the empty cans on his left. When he wasn't pulling another beer out of the crate, he was using it as an armrest. Iori was watching this from the easy chair next to the computer in the corner of the room.

"Watching it happen live, and sticking with it all day, learning all the new information as it was happening, it left a huge impression on me. Because I was there, filtering back to all my friend at school through text, it felt like it was my responsibility, that this was my mission in life. I knew at that moment I'd enlist after graduating. I nearly enlisted after turning 16, but my parents insisted I finish High School first. That was perhaps my only concession. In the mean time I took my classes, got excellent grades, and got into sports and bulked myself up. Right after my graduation I headed into the recruitment office."

Six beers down.

"I was ready to be sent wherever they wanted me. Afghanistan, Iraq, wherever. I wanted a rifle in my hands and my boots on the sand. As it turns out however, the Army had different plans for me. They knew of my technical background so they wanted me working with machines. I didn't think that was too bad and thought they'd have me working with jeeps and tanks. I was wrong."

Ten. He pretty much shotgunned the last two.

"They had this new technology they were working with, Unmanned Ariel Vehicles. Small planes that can be flown from the ground through remote controls. Not exactly what I'd planned for my military career. I flew the RQ-11A/B Raven. It's a small short-range plane with only a camera. It's used to take aerial photographs and record intel for the guys on the ground. It was an important job, but I couldn't really stand it. I wanted to be in there, fighting. My distress didn't last too long, however, as developments in technology lead to an armed UAV. I jumped at the chance. MQ-5A/B Hunter."

Thirteen. For a while he stops talking, looking only at the ceiling. Iori wondered if he was starting to get drunk.

"It's getting too easy to kill people these days. I sat behind my controller, moved with the joystick, and fired with a button, all from the safety of my terminal. It's numbing. It felt like playing a video game. They're not people, they're targets and icons. You're so disconnected from the element of war it's very easy to forget the human faction. You hit the target, go for a drink to celebrate, get lai-" Jordan coughs, though it sounds rather forced. After clearing his voice he starts ago. "Then you get up the next day and plan for the next mission. It's simple and becomes a routine."

He's at 17, but doesn't reach for another can. Has he _finally_ hit his limit?

"Well, over time things escalate and it becomes less routine. The planes get bigger, the bombs get deadlier, and the rules get more confusing. Congress gets involved. The processes get more intricate. We have to submit every mission on paper, it needs to be approved by the higher-ups, we have to warn the officials of the country we'll be active in, and eventually we'll get to fly the mission. But too much time is passing, information gets leaked, targets escapes, accidents happen. Cases of civilian casualties increase, propaganda has our names and faces on it, things are starting to turn very dirty and very ugly. And then there's what happened to me."

After a long pause, he starts on number 18. Iori realizes this is going to be the most important part of the story. She was already on the edge of her seat, but now she practically floating.

"At the time I was piloting the MQ-1C Sky Warrior, a real nasty piece of work. We got some intel of a stronghold in Pakistan. After going through all the channels, word of our mission leaks to the terrorists. They vacate, but they leave a little present in their place. I run my mission, hit my target, and call it a day. I don't find out till I watch the news the next morning. My mission, my missile, killed a dozen little kids. We still don't know how they got them there, but they moved a classroom full of children into their former base."

Covering her mouth as she gasps, Iori can only imagine the horror he was feeling at the moment. But he said this was only half the story, so something must have happened next.

"All our intel was spot on. All the T's crossed and I's dotted. There's outrage and threats of a congressional hearing. However, the Military Panel felt I wasn't at fault, so none of this came back on me. If I had just lowered my head, ended my current tour, everything would have been fine. But I couldn't, I had to be an idiot. I went out, got drunk, and destroyed my plane."

After pausing, it's clear he hasn't finished that thought, "And a couple others."

Unlike the others, Jordan doesn't neatly stack number 18, but crumples it in his hand and throws it at his front door, but his aggression's so passive it's hard to decipher his current emotions.

"If it was just a rifle or a jeep, I would have been thrown in the brig and let out after a couple of weeks. Because those planes are so expensive, and there's so much controversy in their operation, I get Court Marshaled. They throw the book at me. Abandonment of Duty, Sabotage, Public Intoxication, plus a couple more I can't rightly remember. Dishonorable Discharge. I thought at worst I'd get a Bad Conduct Discharge, but I looks like I really pissed the wrong person off. I really got screwed."

Dishonorable Discharge? Iori wasn't familiar with that term.

"It's basically the worst possible thing that can happen to you. You're pretty much branded a criminal. I was stripped of all my benefits, civil rights, and a bunch of other stuff. Everything I'd built for the past 5 years, poof, gone in an instant. I was shipped back home in shackles."

"Your," Iori was compelled to say something, but it was difficult expressing these words, "family?"

"Ah, my family. I guess I didn't mention them at all. My dad was in the Army, my uncle was a Marine, and I got three cousins in the Navy, a forth also in the Army. It's safe to say I come from a military family. They weren't too thrilled to hear what I'd done."

A shame of the family. Iori could somewhat relate. Everybody around him cast such a big shadow that it was impossible to not feel the pressure to follow in their footsteps. Actually, the girl would bet there had been some issue even before he made up his mind to enlist. The only daughter of Minase had also been ridiculed and chastised by her family when she chose to debut as an idol, so she could imagine the same happening to Jordan. From his story he sounded as if he wanted to fully pursue a technological career, and that must have been an issue with his family. Then after he's pulled along in a path he never wanted for himself, and failed, it's easy for Iori to see how he might be treated. But even after all that's happened, there should still be at least one person in his corner.

"Your mother?"

Jordan laughs with such a warm expression on his face, Iori's surprised and blushes.

"Yeah, my mom. She was against the idea of me joining the military since the beginning. She fought tooth and nail to keep me out, so I thought when I returned she'd be completely judgmental. As it turns out, she was the only one who wasn't. Nowadays she's the only one who really talks to me anymore." Lifting his hand off the crate of beer, he flicks his thumb behind him, "I left that room for her. She's the only one who visits me, so it felt natural to leave it for her. I guess that makes me a momma's boy."

His expression and smile brightened so considerably when he spoke of her, it was clear he loves her deeply. Iori likes how he looks right now, and wants it to continue longer.

"You two are close?"

"Who do you think learned me how to drink?" He laughs again, "Christ, nothing good ever happens when the two of us are together."

Actually, Jordan's responses seem to be drawing more questions then answers. Picturing this woman he calls his mother is impossible for Iori.

"After walking into town and showing my yellow identification papers, even the inn wouldn't open it's doors to me," he suddenly says.

Sounding painstakingly familiar, Iori couldn't finish saying, "What" before she realizes to what he was referencing, "Jean Valjean." Jean Valjean was not only the name of her dog, but the central character in the timeless masterpiece _Les Misérables__, _which so happens to be in his bookshelf next to the front door. Valjean was a convict whom couldn't even find a roof to sleep under because of his former criminal status. Swiftly does this lead him to commit two more crimes, and he spends the rest of his life to his dying day trying to redeem himself. Was Jordan trying to say the fictional character and himself were similar?

"By law, every time I apply to a job I have to declare that I've been Dishonorably Discharged from the military. Do you think many bosses want someone like that working under them? Before TV stations were tripping over themselves to hire me out of school, now they won't even return my phone calls. I have all this knowledge and skills, and nobody will let me use them. I'm an usher at a movie theater, that's the best I could do."

Now she knows what he meant. In the story Jean Valjean had to fake his identity to make something of himself. Even his adopted daughter didn't know his real name. However, in this day in age Jordan doesn't have the luxury of being able to do something of that caliber easily. Or maybe he has. Actually, the episode with the Guerrilla Live was a gray area/bending the rules that could be expected from someone who isn't on the favorable side of society. He might be a mere usher, but Iori was certain he had many things going on under the table. How else would he know someone like Vanessa, the manager of the World Famous Maurus?

"That's me," Jordan says, spreading his arms wide as if this were the conclusion of his life, "this is the man on whose doorstep you'd been waiting. Broken, without hope, without a future. The best I could do for myself is this apartment, and sweeping popcorn and tearing tickets. I'd understand if you are disappointed and want to leave."

Every word of Jordan's entire story only reaffirmed everything she before believed to be true about this man. Haunted by a tragic past, a human mistake, he does for others what he can't for himself. Selfless, honorable, generous, humble, virtuous. There's nothing in him for her to be disappointed. There was only one way for her to respond.

"No, I'm not leaving," Iori stands, walking to his front as he lounges on the floor. "We need you. We-no, I can't do this without you. Jordan, you're more then your job, this apartment, that bike you ride, you are so much more! What you've done in your past has molded you into someone who can do incredible things today. I know you have more planned, more up your sleeve. Are you going to let this little setback, this little exposed secret, stop you from selling out our concert? You want this relationship to end even less then I do."

Did he really put his frustration behind him shortly after being outed by Ritsuko, or did his mood immediately clear after seeing Iori waiting at his doorstep? Impossible for her to know the truth, but Iori believe that he was downtrodden up to the point he started climbing the stairs to his apartment. Of everything she'd just said she was completely certain. Nothing he could say would convince her otherwise.

Grunting as he lifts himself up, "Oh you think you know just every-"

As he stands on his feet, for a moment he loses his balance and teeters. After he steps forward to regain himself, his abdomen smacks Iori in the face. The poor girl is forced to grab onto his sides to keep from being knocked down.

"Sorry about that, guess I stood up too fas-"

What was a clutch for support, soon turns into a hug. Iori draws herself infinitely close and wraps her arms around his back. She can feel the man suddenly turn ridged. At a loss for words, stuttering, the girl has complete advantage over him.

"What are you doing?"

"I don't know," Iori honestly answers, or as honestly as she was capable. "I just want to."

Jordan sighs, then pats her on the head (seeing as she's too short for him to hug her back).

"You can do what you want to too."

As if a bolt shocks through his entire body, he jerks, "What are you saying?" his voice is panicked.

"Do what you want. Don't let your past keep you from what you want." These next particular words came out forced, "You like Vanessa. Don't think because what's happened to you you don't deserve to be happy with someone else. She must see it too, that you're a great person. I bet she's just waiting for you to ask her out."

Ruffling her hair kind of hard, "You little brat. Think you know everything, don't cha?"

When satisfied with her embrace, Iori backs away and asks, "Okay. So what do you want to do?"

Crossing his arms, Jordan play-acts like he's thinking really hard, completely obvious that he already has an answer in mind. After a few seconds, "I think I want to crash a birthday party."

For as much as she thought she understood him, there were still times like this where his responses seem completely out of left field.

"Eh?"


	22. 22 RESTaRT

Chapter 22

REST(a)RT

"Are you sure about this?" Jordan asks as he and Iori are sitting in the empty parking spot reserved for his apartment number, about to embark on his bike.

Iori, who was first warned about sitting side-saddle but was now doing so, was inappropriately-clad in a long black dress and light makeup, unhesitant and comfortably wrapping her arms around his waist, tells him, "Absolutely."

After the former-soldier was accepted by the Japanese Idol, he unveiled the continuation of the plan he began early this day. Actually, the roots for this plan started yesterday, a seed he planted when such plans would have been putting the cart before the horse. Even when they were looking for her friends Jordan was already making preparations for the eventual promotion blitz that would follow. Only then, Iori had no idea he was doing so.

Yesterday they were invited to a certain casino where a military ball was going to take place the next day. There they met with the Event Coordinator and a Military Representative. A Lieutenant Colonel representative. Since he was meeting with the Event Coordinator, it could be deduced he was in official capacity and the actual person in charge of the party. Lt Col Shazier gave his word that he'd mention her concert to the guys that have at one time been stationed in Japan. Jordan's idea was; why not do it themselves? In fact, why not give them a preview? Iori was going to sing at their ball.

However, there was a snag; what song would she sing? One of her own? A Ryuuguu Komachi title might not be a greatest of ideas. While they might enjoy the performance, her intentions would be clear and she won't win over many of the soldiers. So what song would befit such an audience on this annual celebration? To that, Jordan had an answer.

"But Jordan," Iori told him at the time, "this song is in English and I've never sung it before."

A worst nightmare scenario for many idols, not only at 765 Pro, was to be asked to sing a song in English and completely butcher it. Due to their own language constraints, some of the words in their songs were in English, but it'd also become an increasingly popular fad in the Japanese music industry to include more English spoken words in their songs. The problem was that it lead to a false image that idol singers were fluent in English, when in fact they were only singing in English and not necessarily understanding the words. This left the poor idols with horrible, near unintelligible accents. It'd become a terrible stereotypes in foreign countries. Iori, who spoke fluent English, her fear was falling into that stereotype.

"Iori," Jordan sensed her worries, "I've been listening to you for the past couple days now. At first it was a little hard to understand what you were saying. There was broken grammar, a unclear accent, and awkward pauses while you were trying to remember words. Since then you're talking comfortably, translating for others, and even throwing a joke around or two. There's still a bit of an accent, but anyone listening to you would guess you've been in the US for years. Don't worry. I've heard your singing, and honestly, I was blown away. I know you can do this."

Such praise couldn't leave her unaffected, and she agreed.

While Iori memorized the lyrics and listened to others renditions on Jordan's PC, the man came to conclusion that her current outfit was unacceptable. Inclined to agree, but Iori couldn't imagine this development when she left the others at the hotel. Her sparkly pink two-piece from this afternoon had been returned to wardrobe and she was at the time donned in a light blue floral dress.

Jordan had a solution. In the bedroom reserved for guests and his mother, in the closet was a black dress that would perfectly suit the occasion. Here Iori learned from where Jordan inherited his height. It seemed preposterous that he'd even suggest she wear something that so obviously wouldn't fit, but then Iori remember the crafting supplies she noticed from the night she stayed. They could alter the dress. Actually, Usa-chan has been with the young idol for years. It was of no surprise that it would suffer damage over all that time. Iori insisted on doing the repairs herself, and since this was her precious partner, she wouldn't allow a shoddy job. Many didn't know this, but Iori was pretty handy with a needle and thread. By coincidence, this was a skilled also shared with her best friend Yayoi.

However, Jordan insisted he could do that himself. Iori wouldn't have had a problem with that, except for the fact that she'd have to stand around in her underwear while he was making the adjustments. For the most part Iori did well on her own, but the finishing touches had to be done by another.

"Won't your mother get mad that we're doing this to her dress?" Iori asked as the thought occurred to her.

"Yeah. She'll yell at me, but I've been yelled at before." He said that with his face centimeters away from her near naked back, his breath tickled her.

In a matter of minutes he finished. Snugly his mother's dress fit to Iori's body, but after she looked in the mirror, a problem was apparent.

"I gotta lose the bra, don't I?"

"Seems so."

For a woman of his mother's stature, this much of her chest and collarbone weren't supposed to be exposed, but when altered for the much smaller Iori, it was more something a movie star would wear down the red carpet. If by chance her underwear were black she might not have to go to such lengths, but unfortunately she was wearing white. Thankfully the thickness of the fabric wouldn't allow anyone to notice (Iori made sure to check when she was alone in the bathroom).

Lastly came the makeup and hair. Probably because of Jordan's own long hair, there were no shortage of supplies in that department, and Iori made sure to pack her makeup kit. Since they were taking so long and the hour getting late, the young girl allowed the man to do her hair. Actually, he knew more then a thing or two about what he was doing. Iori has had long hair her entire life thus far, and Jordan still had a couple helpful tips to share with the female.

"No," Jordan gave his opinion on Iori's suggestion, "I don't think you should put up your hair. You have beautiful hair, your should show it off."

Ami asked the question before and the man jokingly brushed her off, but Iori became certain he preferred women with long hair. The girl wasn't quite sure why she recalled that memory at that time.

At the final check, Iori was pleasantly surprised by how mature she looked at that moment. Idols tended to lean on the cute and girly side, so this was a welcome change. Her previous attempts to look like an adult ended in horrible failure, which Iori, Ami, Mami, and Yayoi try their best to forget.

Options existed on how to get to the hotel. It wasn't the longest distance in the world, so walking was an option (thankfully Iori didn't have high heels to match the dress, and her feet couldn't be seen). Also did the young heiress have her money, so they could have called a cab. For some reason, however, the idol insisted they take the man's bicycle. Jordan didn't mind, but he was worried it might mess with her dress or hair. This was Iori's decision, and she allowed no refusal.

Without incident they arrive at the casino. They find a place to chain his bike just outside the employee parking lot. It isn't a long walk to the entrance.

The night was cool and only a light breeze kisses at her skin. It would be great to take a deep breath and be completely refreshed, but the smell from all the restaurants venting outside was making her hungry. Jordan, who could always make room for a meal, must have been feeling it too. It would have to wait till later. Besides, tightness in the abs from hunger helped control her breathing. It was good to perform hungry, just not starving.

"I'm starving," Jordan complains after smelling the kitchens.

At least he wasn't the one singing.

Together they enter the casinos, and nearly immediately Iori notices the stares she's receiving from the men and boys that see her passing by. Was this what Azusa meant when they had their talk in the hotel suite?

"Do you think I look older?" she asks her companion.

"Why don't you try ordering a drink and find out?"

Was he still thinking about alcohol? Over half his crate of beer he finished and he was still completely fine. Then again, he wouldn't have bought a whole crate if it wasn't necessary.

Side-by-side they walk, Iori flirting with temptation and taking his arm like an escort. Girly fantasies need to be dumped to the side. In a matter of minutes she needs to perform her first ever song in English. Being distracted was definitely unprofessional. The time for getting serious already began. All other thoughts must be pushed out of her mind.

For now.

Taking the familiar path, they make their way upstairs. On their way they spot many, many men and women in the black and red dress uniforms. A few are in tuxes, but most are in military colors. Of their dates/spouses, all of them are wearing dresses with long skirts, all of them looking elegant and beautiful no matter their ages. The greater majority of the people attending the ball are older, parents and grandparents. All matter of ethnicity fill the ranks, so much so that Iori is a bit shaken. Such diversity gathered here in one place, all bound by the same link of military service. Ritsuko categorized the American Military very narrowly. What would she think if she saw this gathering?

"Balls like this are happening all over the country tonight," Jordan tells her. "No, not just here, but on all the bases all over the globe." His voice carries some longing.

"Do you miss it?"

A perfectly valid question. Though he left in disgrace, there must have been some of it upon which he could recollect fondly.

"I miss the social order, and the community. You become so close to your fellow servicemen, that you might have never met someone but he's still your brother. You don't really realize how important these things are to you until you lose them."

Loneliness. More than anything Jordan was suffering from loneliness. Jordan told Iori when they first met that he doesn't make a habit out of helping people; a bold faced lie. His crummy job and the marks on his record don't bother him as much, but for what he really yearns is the human connection. Thus no sacrifice is too large as long as it helps someone else. With every word out of his mouth, every moment they spend together, Iori understands this man a little more.

The large empty ballroom is empty no more. So many now occupy this room that Iori couldn't even begin to count the heads. Noah the Event Coordinator mentioned she expected over a thousand. That was a generous assumption. At least that and a half were now eating and socializing at their tables, with their partner on the dance floor, or lounging around here and there. Not only that, but many had they already passed in the casino on their way here. Iori was overwhelmed by the sheer devotion these Marines were displaying. Only slightly, but the young girl better understood Jordan's mention of brotherhood.

"Are you nervous?"

"Terribly." And that was no lie. Ryuuguu Komachi had preformed on stages with audiences less than this. Now here she was, attempting to go on stage, in front of this packed hall filled with people who had no idea who she was, plus singing a song she's never song before. How could it be any worse?

"Ma'am," a young soldier says as he passes her at the exitway.

Iori, startled, jumps and quickly retreats to as close as Jordan as she can. She's basically leaning against his chest. Once she realizes what she's doing she backs away embarrassed.

"Let me see if I can find Lt Col Shazier and sweet talk him into letting you sing."

Not quite sure if she was okay being left alone, she edges near the wall and waits. Ahead of her in the center of the room is the dance floor. A live band plays ballroom music. Many times Iori had attended parties thrown by rich families with this degree of formality. However, this party isn't about showing off, or making business or political contacts, but a celebration that's both warm and authentic. It's familiar yet very different at the same time.

"Excuse me, Ma'am?" came a voice that was deep and respectful.

Iori was trying her best to act as low profile and out of the way as she could, yet she still found a way to attract attention. Turning to the one by whom she was addressed, it was a young Marine of brown skin and black hair. His height was similar to Jordan's, maybe slightly taller. The rank insignia on his sleeve had three marks on the top and two on the bottom. A moderate amount of ribbons decorated his chest.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but would you happen to be Minase Iori?"

Freezing, Iori wasn't exactly sure she heard what she just did. Of all the places she'd been thus far, someone recognizes her here? Noah knew the name Minase, but did this soldier recognize Iori?

"Um, yes, that's right."

The soldier freezes on the spot, not a muscle moving and perhaps not even breathing. Iori's seen this before; the moment a fan recognizes her on the street.

"I don't believe it!" and his tone changes. The pitch rises and his posture losses all it's sternness. He's moving and sounding as young as he looks. "It's really you! I'm a big fan! I try to see all your performances on NicoNico and Youtube! What are you doing here? Are you someone's date or are you singing somewhere? Where's the rest of Ryuuguu Komachi?" His words were moving at a hundred kilometers a second.

Iori couldn't back any closer into the wall, retreating from the ruthless barrage of questions. Finally the soldier realizes that he's lost composure and realigns himself.

"I apologize for that Ma'am. I'm Gunnery Sergeant De La Torres." Only his name is spoken in accent, and the rest without. "It's a pleasure to meet you," and he lowers his head and slightly bows in the manner of a proper gentleman.

"It's alright," was all she could say in a whimper of a voice. But she was raised better than this. After taking a breath she composes herself. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well. I'm Minase Iori," and she pinches the seams of her dress and curtsies. "Yes, Ryuuguu Komachi has a concert tomorrow night."

"Where?" the fanboy is threatening to take over again.

Iori tells him.

"I'll be there."

Iori couldn't help but giggle by how cute he looks at the moment. Dressed in formal military garb, yet as excited and enthusiastic as one her fans at a handshaking session.

"I guess I got a little carried away," he loosens up a little.

"No, it's alright. It's just that I haven't had that happened to me since I arrived in Vegas. It was refreshing."

Fidgeting a little, "Um, do you mind if we take a picture?"

What nervousness was in her before has completely disappeared, "Sure."

The soldier pulls a phone out of his pocket and lowers himself to a semi-kneel.

"Say: Jupiter sucks."

Doing so with a laugh and a smile, she can hear the computer generated "snap" as a bright light flashes from the phone. The picture was taken.

"Torres!" comes a yell from not that far away. "Put a leash on it!"

Snapping to attention the moment his name is called, he shifts attitudes as quickly as a light switch, "Sir!"

Jordan and a tux wearing Shazier approach with a somewhat cautious gaze.

"I better not have to get the hose on you," Shazier tells the young Marine. Turning to Iori, "I've heard what you have planned, but I can't easily agree. I have to know you can sing before I allow you onto my stage."

This was somewhat unexpected. From before Tom Shazier's tone was jovial and warm, but know that they were openly asking for something he turns very strict. He was responsible for this party, and he wouldn't allow anything to embarrass him. Asking to spread word of mouth and asking to perform seems to be two very different things.

"Sir," Torres interrupts, "if I may."

"Go ahead."

"I've watched her songs many times on the internet. Minase Iori has a soft, sweet, energetic voice with a very wide range. You won't be disappointed."

While that might not be how Iori would describe herself, this clearly wasn't the time to raise an objection.

Mulling it over for a second, the old man of the military gives his verdict, "And here I was looking forward to a private audition. If Sgt Torres says so, then I guess you must be pretty good, kid. Alright, the stage is all yours. I'll go ahead and make the introduction."

Shazier starts on his way to the stage, and Sgt Torres excuses himself, winking at Iori as he leaves.

After his brief recess, Jordan returns to Iori's side and says, "What was that about?"

"Obviously someone who can recognize my talent at but a glance. Why, are you jealous?"

There wasn't a response. Was he jealous? Could it be possible? Iori was expecting one of his signature quips, instead she got nothing.

"Are you ready?" he ignores the previous question. "You can't be nervous up there."

His avoidance slightly threw her off-track, but Iori recovers quickly, "Who do you think you're talking to? I'm a professional Idol."

It sounds as if the band is wrapping up the current song.

"It's time," Jordan tells her. "We need to get up there."

Shaizer was waiting nearby for the end so he could tell the band there was an announcement to be made. Jordan and Iori journey to his side so they can inform the musicians what they'll need to play. There was the chance that they wouldn't know beforehand this music, but Jordan assured Iori back at the apartment there wasn't a chance of that happening. She could only take his word.

"May I have your attention please," Shaizer began as soon as he has the microphone, Jordan speaking with the band in the background. "Tonight we have a special guest, a wonderful young lady I had the pleasure of meeting just yesterday. A young entertainer, she traveled all the way from Japan to appear in her very first concert in the United States tomorrow night. But before she does, she would like to give her thanks to the country that welcomed her so kindly. I ask that everyone give a hand to teen pop star Iori Minase!"

An applause commences, but it seems more respectful than anything. Simply by giving her name wouldn't immediately draw the crowd to her favor. But this audience is polite and they'll give her a chance. A chance is what she needs. After that, the rest must be done under her own power.

The opening melody begins, and she has a few moments before she starts. Jordan was right, the band knew this song and need no time to prepare. It's a patriotic song, so it's of little surprise. However, Iori worried people wouldn't approve of a foreigner singing a song about love of country.

"As long as you sing it good, and put your emotions into it, they'll respond."

That's what Jordan told her. It's not the first time she'd heard that advice, and frankly, it's something that's been beaten into her since she decided to become an idol. She shouldn't have needed him to tell her that, but she did.

Her part rapidly approaching, she had to decide what emotions to use. What she normally used wouldn't work. She can't behave as if this is a hall filled with Japanese idol fans. While they had a love for their idol, these men and women in uniform had a love for their country. This Iori needed to express, a love for their country. Could she? Exactly how much did she love this place? Looking towards Jordan reminds her easily.

_"If tomorrow all the things are gone ~ I'd worked for all my life,"_

Feeling it all the way from on stage, Iori could tell her feelings were reaching. But it's more impressed than anything. She has to do better, her feelings aren't so small.

_"And I had to start anew again ~ with just my children and my wife,"_

Slightly subdued is her opening verse, but it's hard to be emotionally charged when the lyrics don't demand it. Continuing to sing, it must be clear even to the audience that she is struggling, at least on the subconscious level. She's trying hard, but something is missing and she can't find what it is. Far from a disaster, this surely wasn't the best she could do.

_"And I'm proud to be an American ~ where at least I know I'm free,"_

Terrible thoughts leak in from the hesitation which clouds her head. Simply put, she doesn't have the voice to pull of this song. Chihaya Kisaragi, the star voice of 765 Pro could do it, and so could Takane Shijou and even Miki Hosii. Iori by herself just couldn't measure up.

_"And I won't forget the men who died ~ who gave that right to me,"_

What she'd just sung struck a cord with Iori. Why was Chihaya so great? What separated her from Iori? After all, didn't she fail when trying to go solo? Yes she did, but then was different than now. Chihaya's brother died when they were small. This both curses and fuels her talent. Once she came to terms with this, her power soared. So what of Iori? What does Iori Minase have?

_"And I gladly stand up-"_

Everyone in complete unison, and without exception, stands. In that single moment, Iori understands. She doesn't have a tragic past, or suffered no earth-shattering event. Iori saw their act of patriotism and understood. Because she met Jordan, she understood.

_"-next to you and defend her still today,"_

A heart that can open to others. A heart that can understand and accept. A heart that can wall itself like a castle, yet can still be warm to those she shelters. One who can give orders, and one who can take. Putting it simply is impossible. She can be both a queen who understands and saves her people, and a king who can call her army to war.

_"Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land,"_

Confident. Compelling. Empathetic. Meek. All of these make Iori Minase. So what if she can understand the audience? Now it's time for the audience to understand her!

_"God bless the USA!"_

A change is undertaking her. In her voice is a kind of resolution and defiance. Iori could have been singing to nobody, one person, a concert hall, or the entire world. Nothing would deter her. No longer pleading, no longer adjusting herself, this girl was singing while placing her very self into her song. In her singing she transmits the message, "Take refuge under my care, and I shall lead the way."

The audience is being drawn in, or perhaps unable not to. Trapped in a whirlpool, all they can do is surrender. Iori's power of song lifts them into her highs, and sinks them into her lows. She's become an existence that can't be ignored. Not as some monument that's impossible to miss, but as a sun who mercilessly beats down upon everything with it's glory.

Couples hold each other tight and sway. Individuals can be heard singing along. Emotions are overtaking everyone, and even grown men cry. Iori and this song mix into an incredible harmony, so much so that everyone felt that this song was written for her. To them, at this moment, the entire world exists only in this room.

Iori finishes with the last of the lyrics, but melody continues for a while longer. Before the band finishes, however, everyone applauds unable to restrain their praise. Even Iori herself wasn't unscathed by her song as tears of her own roll down her cheeks. The young singer draws the microphone into her shy bosom and bows towards the audience, as if this was her pleasure instead of theirs.

After rising her head she glances around the crowd. Everyone's still cheering. Not terribly distant are Lt Col Shazier and Jordan, both overtook with emotion. It isn't quite time to exit the stage, as her original purpose wasn't this song but the promotion of her concert. She couldn't leave without doing that.

Bringing the microphone to her lips once more, "Thank you everyone for giving me your time and listening. I would like to take credit, but that wasn't my song," which receives a hearty chuckle. "I haven't been in Las Vegas long, but everyone I've met has been so gracious, kind, and wonderful, that I feel like all of you are my very good friends. As my friends, I would like to invite you all to come see me and my group, Ryuuguu Komachi, at the Green Valley Ranch, and listen to our songs. Thank you."

* * *

><p><em>Fanfiction's auto format is starting to get annoying. First I have uploaded chapters that are suddenly all in Italics, and now I can't even use the<em> (at)_ symbol without it being deleted. Bah, couldn't they ease up a bit? I mean, it's just for the title._

_Griping aside, these past few chapters have been coming a bit slower than I would have liked, but that's real life for ya. Less than 24 hours remain until our concert_,_ and perhaps only a handful of chapters. Within the month we should have our conclusion. Other than that, I don't really have anything to say. We're getting close, but we're not done yet._

_~Kyle Castorena_


	23. 23 relations

Chapter 23

relations

The night didn't end so simply. After her song Iori was confront by a many new fans. Both young and old, all wanted to share at least a few words with the idol. Gradually it turned to more than that. As she wasn't particularly busy, she didn't have to leave just then. Accepting when asked to dance, an hour or two passed with her being the dance partner of just about every available bachelor, and some who weren't.

At some point, Jordan left from sight.

Being so swarmed by attention, Iori didn't notice this with haste. She hadn't completely forgotten about him, but when she asked if it was okay to stay and he said "yes," any restraint withholding her was now released. Carried away by the situation Iori allowed herself to be a bit reckless, and before she knew it he was gone.

A terrible fear bubbled up from some dark part of her. Excusing herself from the party, she rushed outside the hotel in search of her savior. In the same spot she found Jordan's bike, but it's owner wasn't present. At least he was still somewhere in the casino, but he could have been anywhere. Somewhat revealed, only her greatest fear was alleviated; that he'd left her. Worries such as hers wouldn't be cured so easily.

Ashamed of herself, Iori didn't even know for how long he was gone. What was going through his head, his disappointment in her, none of it could the girl measure. All she knew, all she could think of doing, was to find him as quickly as possible and apologize.

Following her first instinct of being led by her nose, Iori discovered this to be a short pursuit. Sitting at a bar that overlooked the exit to the second floor conference area, she found Jordan with a drink and a hamburger watching whatever sports were playing. Being as late in night as it is, these all must have been replays. If Iori wasn't in such a hurry before, or he'd been slightly less distracted, they would have saw one another a few short moments after she descended the stairs.

"Oh! Iori! Over here-"

"Why did you leave?" she shouts, completely uncaring about the spectacle she's making.

Jordan's body jerks in shock, completely unsuspecting of that outburst. Realizing the direness of the situation and that something was possibly wrong, he pulls money from his wallet and places it on the table. Only a few seconds pass before he joins Iori outside the bar.

"What's wrong?"

"Why did you leave?" she repeats, not making it any clearer for him. As he's not responding, she adds, "Why did you leave me alone?"

"Oh, that," and he smiles painfully. "You weren't really alone. You were surrounded by soldiers."

It's quite clear that wasn't what she meant. Iori's expression of sadness and anger doesn't waver. Jordan can't keep eye contact and is forced to look away.

"I couldn't stay there. I don't belong in that place."

Emotions erupt and words spew out of her mouth, though not the words she originally wished to portray, "Don't say things like that! I was only there because you were with me! Don't say you 'don't belong!' You belong-no, I belong at your side. Any place you are, any place I am, we should be there together!"

This was no conversation to be had in front of a bar. Likewise, they've worn out their welcome in this casino. Now was a good as time as any to call it a night. Jordan motions to the angered little girl to follow.

"I can only do so much," Jordan talks as he walks. "You were the one who carved her place in that room. You did it yourself, under your own power. I was just lucky enough just to hear you sing. That's all I-"

"No!" his explanations only seem to be making her angrier. "You deserve more than this! You shouldn't always be on the outside looking in! I was there because of you! If I'm the center of attention, you should be there with me! I wanted-" to dance with you, was a sentiment she'd never get to finish.

"What don't you get?" his voice now rang with something new, irritation and anger. His face transformed, anger and shame made his expression into something like a snarl. Facial muscles twisted and distorted his face into someone who was capable of terrible things. Not exactly a villain, but certainly someone who could do evil. "I told you what happened to me, but did you understand any of it? If those Marines in there found out who I was or what I've done, they'd tar and feather me!"

"They wouldn't! If they got to know you-"

"They would! They'd rip me to shreds and eat me alive! They don't care what kind of person I am! They won't try to understand, they won't give me a chance! That's what it means to be branded a failure! I know! Every day I see it! So many times I've been discriminated against! So many times I've been beaten into the ground! Do you know what it's like to have all this talent and not be able to use it? I sweep popcorn off the ground! I'm not allowed to look at the projectors in my movie theater! I can't work on the speakers that I hear are messed up! I couldn't even change a light bulb if I asked!

"I've been on job interviews where they won't even listen to what I say. I could tell them how to take apart their equipment and repair it better than ever, and they ask me how many months I spent in the brig. They yell at me for my crimes. They tell me, 'How should I expect you to work for me after what you've done?' Do you think those soldiers who have honor would treat someone who's lost his any different?"

He then said nothing. It was clear he now wanted Iori to speak.

Something in Iori knew he was right, but she didn't want to admit it, "Does that mean you aren't allowed to be with other people? Does that mean you must carry this cross wallowing in self pity?"

"Let me put it this way," there was no pause or hesitation in his voice, as if these are words he's told himself a thousand times, "I could have stayed in that room with you. Nobody would have guessed who I was. Nobody would have known about my past unless I told them. But how would I feel, hiding myself, knowing that if I revealed even the tiniest hint of my true self they would abandon me? I couldn't take it. I can't have the hope that they'll understand and accept me, but I also can't stand being rejected and denigrated all the time. So I leave. I leave before anyone gets too involved. This way nobody's hurt. I'm nothing more than a forgettable specter and they're nobody who could cause me harm. That's the way my life must be lived."

Iori wanted to say, wanted to shout, "You're wrong!" but she couldn't. Soothing words, something that would let him know, "It's alright," wouldn't come to her. To combat his condition, it felt there was absolutely nothing she could do. Completely and utterly powerless, in all it's frustrating glory.

"Thank you for feeling the way you do," Jordan can at least read her intentions, "and that's enough. Just having someone willing enough to stick with me for a little while, even after they know everything, means a lot."

Irritation welling up within her, Iori had to say something, anything, no matter how irrational or out of context it could be taken, "But why, why couldn't you be with me in there?"

What Jordan says next was like taking a pickaxe to the heart, "What scares me the most is you."

Hallow emptiness suddenly filled her, as if something important, essential from deep inside has been ripped out. Nearly did she start crying without explanation, and maybe even reason.

"I think I've grown too attached to you. When I saw that Marine talking to you and taking your picture, I started to realize how far you've come. I was happy, but then I started think about myself. When you were lost before, you had nothing. I let myself get close to you because there was no consequences. Both of us really had nothing to lose, and a lot to gain. But then I realized that you had your fame, and I had my infamy. I left you at that party because I thought, 'what if they realize who I am, and they associate my crimes with her.' All that you accomplished tonight would instantly become meaningless, and I couldn't let that happen. Before I realized it, you were already surrounded by so many people, and I just had to leave."

A weak and painful smile forms across his lips, "I'm not going to abandon you after you've come so far, but we're too close. You need to be able to abandon me the moment I become a burden."

"No!" Iori couldn't let that comment stand.

"Iori!" his cry allows for no rebuke. "Why are you here? What's most important? Your concert. You must remember that above all else. I'm sorry if you feel hurt, but I should have never allowed it to come to what it did tonight. I'll be more careful from now on, so it shouldn't happen again."

Presently they were standing next to his bike, but a melancholic silence seems to stop time itself. After an eternally long moment,

"I think you should return to your hotel."

Knowing this was coming, Iori was still helpless against the crushing depression that follows. Screaming in pain, her heart detests everything that he's said, but she knows the situation is greater than that. It's impossible to deny what he's said tonight, no matter how much she would like to. What she wants and what she needs are at odds. The safe, smart, responsible thing to do is follow his advice. The pros immeasurably outweighs the cons.

"My things," her voice is meek, barely above a whisper, "are still at your apartment."

"Oh," he says as if he hadn't thought of it before, which he might have not, "that's right."

Jordan commences to unhinge his bike and sets up. Rolling to a stop in front of her, he doesn't even look back towards Iori.

"Get on," his tone sounds so cold.

Doing as she's told, she takes the seat while weakly holding his sides, completely unable to hold him tight like she did on her way to the casino. The trip is both short and long; short in distant and infinite in time. Holding on to only his shirt, Iori can only faintly feel the human being that's underneath. The tight embrace they once shared is now a forgotten memory. He said they were "too close." Certainly that was true, but when did it start? The feelings she wouldn't allow herself to express. The questions she wouldn't ask of herself. The answer she didn't want to face. All of that now suffocates her, crushing her with a reality that is both sweet and cruel. So close is he to her, yet she can't lean forward, wrap her arms around him, and feel his warmth.

For as loosely as she was bound on his bike, they arrive at his apartment safely. Iori could take the lead, but she waits for Jordan to take his bike over his shoulder and climb the stairs. Ascending about five paces behind, she glances up and quickly diverts her gaze. So many emotions flourish when she looks at him that it's painful. Confusion and doubt poisons each of her thoughts. What should she do? What's right to do? What does she want to do? Yes, the concert should be most important, but is it really? It was before, but what about now?

The door opens and Jordan tells her, "Come on."

With her head hung low, she doesn't see as he carries his bike onto the balcony. Heading directly for the bedroom, she gathers the items she left behind. Iori's about to head, run, to the exit, but she realizes she's still in Jordan's mother's clothes. Changing, by the time she's back into her sky blue dress she realizes she left the door completely open. Being this absentminded wasn't like her at all. However, there were no fears that Jordan might have seen her in any state of undress. Was it because she wasn't afraid of him seeing her, or no fear that he'd allow himself to be put in such a compromising position? The young girl wasn't exactly sure, but of what she was sure was that he hadn't see her.

Stepping into the living room, she finds the man dropped on his spot on the floor between the crate of beer and his vanquished stack of empty cans. Though there wasn't a beer in his hand.

"Do you have everything?" his voice sounds painfully indifferent.

"Yes."

There's a pause, "You didn't bring your bunny?"

Jordan wasn't looking at her, so how did he know she didn't bring Usa-chan? What's more, how did Iori forget to bring her? And not even notice until now? Usa-chan was as much a member of her family as her parents and her brothers, and for the first time Iori had actually forgotten her? As she's been growing older she made the conscious decision to leave her partner behind, but to forget? What was going through her mind at that moment?

"I didn't bring her," she tells him.

"I see," completely oblivious to the significant importance of Usa-chan's lack of presence represents. "I wouldn't want you to forget anything."

Forget anything? Was there something that she had forgotten? Actually, there was. Many thing she was fighting with herself to say, but one she couldn't allow not to pass. Opening her purse she retrieves a certain item.

"Here, I'm returning this."

Jordan's knife rests in her palm. For the first time in a while, he glances in her direction. Surely he'd only seen her hand, but it's been a while since he's seen her. Something seems a little different after that very short moment.

"You're going to need that if you're going to walk to a cab."

"No," and Iori looks at Jordan's face, now unable to turn away. "I don't need it. I'm returning it."

"Then, just place it on the shelf."

"No," her voice more defiant, "this is yours and I'm returning it. Accept it."

"Just set it-"

"No! Take it from me."

Entire body cringing, Jordan fights to keep his eyes set on the ground, "Do you know what your doing to me?"

"I do! This weapon represents power. When you first gave it to me, you gave me the power over you. Now I'm giving it back."

"Cheeky brat!" and he swipes it from her grasp, his trimmed nails lightly scratching her hand.

Iori stands there, looking at him. Was she trying to invite something? Power had returned to the hand of the large man, yet he still sits on the floor as if in defeat. He isn't going to budge. Did she wish he would? Was Iori herself trying to abstain responsibility? Something, anything, happen so she doesn't have to walk out that door! Her prayers remain unanswered as only the light ticking of the clock accompanies them in this tense apartment.

Clock?

Turning to take a look, she finds an old style French clock hung upon the wall next to the closet door. Sees it's already an hour till midnight.

"It's already this late?" her tone and voice completely shatter this oppressive mood. "Do you honestly expect me to go fetch a cab this late at night? Are you insane?"

As if the spell's been broken, Jordan lifts himself up and checks the time himself, "Oh crap! That would have been bad, huh? You'd have to go down those long dark alleys, there's no way I could make you do that! Listen, the bedroom's always open. You could just wash yourself off and go to bed. You need your rest. We'll have a very long day ahead of us."

"Ha! I think I will! In fact, it's your obligation to allow me to do so!"

They were lying to each other, and to themselves. Neither of them wanted to face separation, but they knew their previous path was leading to some unknown place. That unknown place scared them. This way they could preserve their relationship as it were and continue as they must. The concert will be a monumental success and they could remain the friends they were now.

Of course that was impossible.

Smiling and lying to each other, simultaneously they ignore the growing mood and actually spend a few minutes together without any of the past or uncertain future bogging them down. First Iori took a shower and headed to the bedroom, closing the door behind her, and then Jordan did the same (without the aid of an actual room which door he could close). Iori turns off the lights, completely unaware of her prayers to fall asleep as quickly as possible.

The walls of the bedroom were shaking in rhythmic beats. Somewhere outside music was playing, volume not loud enough to be heard but bass so tremendous is shook buildings a great distance away. Frustration accumulates rapidly and she barges out of the room as if Jordan did something wrong.

"What is with that music? It wasn't like that the other night!"

With all the lights off, the darkness covers the apartment in a scary, uncertain aura. Jordan, who calls this darkness his own, is curled up in bed as comfortably as possible. This was his home.

"The nightclubs must be going. It's not like that in the middle of the week. Only the weekends."

"Then how am I supposed to sleep?"

"How am I supposed to know? That's why I sleep out here."

Unwittingly he said something for which he immediately curses himself. That's the reason he didn't sleep in the bedroom. Sleeping in what should have been the dinning room, in the middle of the apartment, he's too far removed from the bordering outer walls that are shaken by the music. Being underneath the fan as he was, not only was he in the coolest area of the apartment, but the quietest as well. His mother was merely an excuse! This was the best spot in his entire home!

"Don't think you're going to get away with that!" and she crawls into bed with him.

In that moment all the lies shatter. Everything she's been trying to ignore, all the emotions she was trying to hide, all brought to light in this pitch darkness. Iori's raging heartbeat, the flush that had been warming her face, the sweat that had been dampening her palms, the labored breath, suddenly she's aware of all things. Immediately she regrets everything, but at the same time, she embraces it knows there's no turning back.

"What are you doing?" Jordan shouts, but his voice only carries it's normal volume, his attempt at resistance futile.

"I'm sleeping here," Iori was beyond scared, she was terrified, "with you."

Clicking his tongue, "Fine. I'll take the couch."

Not getting far, he's held in place by Iori's weak strength. Clutching tightly to his shirt, Iori doesn't allow escape.

"Don't go, please."

Without as much as a word of protest, he slowly lowers himself back down.

"At the casino," Jordan's voice is serious, Iori's heart aflutter, "I asked you what was important. I thought it was the concert, but that was presumptuous of me. I don't have the right to decide that for you. So what is it really?"

In her condition, Iori was incapable of telling anything other than the absolute truth, "Everything. I want my concert to be a success. I want my friends to be my friends. And I want you with me. I don't want you in the background, I don't want you somewhere far away watching over me. I want you there, by my side."

"That's a big gamble. Try to reach for everything and you might catch nothing."

"I'm tired of caring. I'm tired of hesitating. You said 'might.' Then isn't it also possible I 'might' catch everything?"

"Yes, that's a possibility. The bigger the risk the bigger the reward, right? But your forgetting one very important thing."

Iori didn't believe she was, but she still asks, "What?"

"Tomorrow's the last you'll see of me."

An arrow to her gut, but the truth didn't seem to hurt as much now. In the present he was here within her grasp. The future didn't seem to matter.

"Don't think they'll magically be something after that. No matter how much you hope, how much you wish, there's no way there will be a day after tomorrow. It's the finish line, the ending. No matter what takes place tomorrow, it will still be the end. 'Everything' is impossible, because I know there's still one more thing you want but haven't said, and I think that's the most important to you. You said you want me by your side, but that moment will be so short you could only be disappointed. Then you'll want more, but at that moment I'll be gone. You can't have me after tomorrow. When that wish shatters into dust you'll come to regret everything that's happened these past few days."

"You said it yourself, you're being presumptuous. If I can't have you after tomorrow, I'll have you now. We still have tonight."

Underneath the blankets, Iori can feel Jordan's body getting warmer. At least this about him was honest. The girl herself was practically already sweating. Placing a hand on his back, she can feel all the muscles he's achieved during his military training underneath his shirt. Currently he's fully clothed. Does he normally sleep like this, or did he changed his habits because of his guest?

"Iori," she shivers when her name is called, "I don't mind sharing my bed with you. It might be a bit immoral for a man as old as I sleeping next to a young girl like you, but my whole existence is pretty much debouched at this point. But this is the edge of the cliff. One step further and-" he couldn't bring himself to finish.

Knowing what he meant, knowing so well, Iori didn't even want to hear him say it. With how much she's combating herself, battling with her emotions, that was the one question for which she couldn't answer. _One more step_, was such a scary concept. Take it and they'll fall. After that moment everything changes. Not only their relationship, but Iori and Jordan themselves. Mostly Iori, because as he's said she's still a young girl. Who would this new Iori be? It was impossible for the girl to say. Uncharted roads lied beyond that path. Inexperience left it completely hidden, but did that mean she couldn't navigate just because it was unknown?

A question without an answer. Thinking wasn't the way to make progress. Iori ceased, clearing her head. From this point, Iori would only listen to her body, and obey it's commands.

. . .

Violently jerking Iori out of her tranquil recovery, an alarm sounds and repeats the same synthesized note over and over again. Startled, the girl rapidly sits up, throwing the blanket off her by the motion. Light hits her eyes mercilessly and she winces in recoil. The widow faces East. Drawn blinds do little against the rising sun and the entire apartment is feathered in a pale illuminance. Everything is laid bare to be seen.

Sudden panic hits Iori and her face nearly melts from the blood rushing to her head. What happened, what they did after sharing the same bed, nothing came to memory. She couldn't remember any of it!

Turning to the man sleeping next to her side, the sight alone tells her everything she needed to know. Jordan's on his side, a pillow wedged between his head and shoulder, peacefully asleep despite the obnoxious alarm and the bright morning. He slept on his side, his back to his companion. The same as Iori, he was still fully clothed and not the slightest bit out of place. After all her worrying, all her inner turmoil, after condemning herself to the wishes of her body, she fell asleep.

Iori could only giggle to herself. What a way to make of that situation! In a sense it could have been considered pathetic, but the young girl didn't see it that way. It wasn't pathetic because it was her answer. The question that boggled her mind, that nearly tore her apart inside, the answer was thus and everything was resolved.

How to describe the relationship between Iori Minase and Jordan Huntsman? Surely everything was brought to conclusion last night. Last night they both stood at the edge of the cliff, but they couldn't take the leap. That's it. More than friends, less than lovers. Together they stood at the edge of the cliff, but neither desired the thrill of the fall. No regrets were there to be had. Surely she could have pushed herself and they both could have fallen together, but who's to say they had to? Was that thrill really so important?

After all, doesn't the edge itself have the very best view?

Now, about this alarm...

* * *

><p><em>I'm not sure there's much to say after a chapter like that. From what I pictured in my head, to what made it in text, well, it turned out much steamier than I imagined. For a while I wasn't sure I could keep <em>that _from happening. I think Stephen King put it best (and I paraphrase), 'I'm not the God of my stories. I'm merely the conduit of how they're told.' Though what I could have done was cut this chapter a little shorter and left you at a cliffhanger, but my better judgement wouldn't let me._

_On a side note, I got a warning that I had too many chapters sitting in _Doc Manager (Upload)_. The max you can have is 15 and old chapter are automatically deleted after two months. That means in the past two months, I've written 16 chapters. That's probably not a record or anything, but I think it's pretty darn impressive considering I can only write when I find time away from work and my huge collection of video games. Just thought I'd toot my own horn a little bit._

_~Kyle Castorena_


	24. 24 Here We Go ! !

Chapter 24

Here We Go!

It took a while to wake Jordan Huntsman, but once done, he rose like a thunderbolt. From asleep to fully aware in half a heartbeat; there was no in between. For a moment Iori thought the guilt or embarrassment of last night fuels this response, but he regards his bed-partner without a sliver of awkwardness. Completely comfortable with a woman in his bed he gives no more attention to her than the blanket that had fallen onto the floor. Not as though he's shown the girl disrespect. This is the maturity of an adult in contrast to that of a teenager. He'd likely have acted the same if last night had taken that _other_ path.

"It's already _this_ late?" his voice is panicked.

To cease the alarm, Iori had to find the source. It was his cellphone. Indicated by the digital clock, it was only 6am. How could this be considered late?

"Hurry!" the former military orders. "Get ready! We need to get moving!"

Trusting in him and the urgency in his voice, Iori still wasn't freed from her curiosity, "What's going on?"

"You're going on TV in about an hour! Get moving!"

Ignoring the fact that he'd never shared any of his plans prior to execution, Iori couldn't have possibly known beforehand this could have been expected. Now wasn't the time to argue, no matter how much arguing was warranted. If she was told to jump, she wouldn't waste time asking how high. That's the amount of trust Iori has in Jordan.

While they were busy preparing, they had their conversation.

"Ritsuko never said anything about TV. This is your doing, isn't it?"

Jordan's was inside the bathroom with Iori, both fighting over the mirror while they were brushing their hair, "Yeah. I know one of the anchors, some of the reporters, and basically all the technical guys. I called in a favor."

"And when did you do this?"

"Yesterday morning, but I didn't get an okay from the Director until last night. A little after I sat down at the bar. Normally these things were all done through Bookers, so it took a bit longer than normal."

Last night Iori might have been the only one singing at the Military Ball, but were they going to leave out the other members of Ryuuguu Komachi again?

"No," Jordan answers her question, "only you could have pulled off last night. Any of the other girls would have butchered the song. Today's a different story. All of you are needed. They're probably already at the studio. I called Richie last night and had him forward the message to your manager. They know what's going on."

And yet he couldn't tell Iori despite her being so close? Then again, if he only got confirmation after he left her at the ball, it's easy to see how he could have forgotten to mention the fact. Partially was the idol at fault for being overly dramatic. At the same time, however, there wasn't a reason for her to be angry at herself either. The results of her outburst allowed the two to finally come to a complete understanding, or at least in Iori's eyes.

For the moment there was nothing more to be said. Time was of the essence and they need to get going. Actually, Jordan had the most to do as Iori would be primped Makeup. If anything, very little's required of Iori; hair at most. If Ritsuko's already there, then she must have the costumes ready as well. Seeing as she didn't need to go more in depth, the girl went to get changed.

Correctly assuming Jordan would take more time, Iori could take a moment to sit down and rest. Completely refreshed from her deep and peaceful sleep, but the sudden rush made her head spin a little. This was definitely how she preferred to sleep, but not how she desired to wake.

Now that she didn't have to focus on herself, Iori notices something different about Jordan. Those tired, worn, experienced eyes are a shadow of their former selves. They're now clean, clear, and without wrinkle. More drastic than when he shaved his beard, Jordan has again decreased in age. Now he really does appear to be in his mid-twenties. Even more attractive than before, Iori wondered how Vanessa didn't melt every time the two met.

"What?" Jordan asks when he notices Iori staring.

"Just wondering how long you're going to keep me waiting." And just to hack away at his masculinity, "You're taking longer than a woman."

"Shut up!"

The shadow of stubble gave him a rugged biker look, but that was offset by his professional clothes. It was a bit hard to place him by appearances only, but than again he wasn't the one going on TV. He said he called a favor, but what exactly were the conditions entailed? Maybe in some way he could be using Ryuuguu Komachi's TV appearance for his own end. Actually, Iori hoped this was so. If they could be of any use to him, she wanted him to exploit that opportunity. Karma should drastically be in his favor, so it was about time for something outstanding to happen to him.

About 40 minutes remain when they leave the apartment. Even though their destination is near (the hotel in front of the complex), they take the bike. Not more then two minutes pass before they're in the parking lot and securing his ride. Next they take a tour through the casino and exit at the main reception. Tourists are coming in, leaving, loading and unloading. Nearby are taxis waiting in line to take a fare, even at this early hour. Not a shabby way to get a lift. Normally (back in Japan) it takes about 30 minutes before a cab would arrive at 765's main office. This foray took less then 10.

It's almost like they were going back to Ryuuguu Komachi's hotel, but they get off the freeway too early. The driver doesn't know the location Jordan gave, so he's stuck giving directions. Until they hit the surface streets it's a pretty confusing path. Once on the street he tells the driver it's a straight shot until they reach the studio. Once they arrive Iori pays.

"Of course I can't ride my bike that far!" Jordan responds to her snarky comment. "Are you trying to kill me?"

A little payback for making the lady handle the fare. Iori knew he didn't have the kind of money to put up for a cab anymore. Actually, she expected the man to be nearly bled dry. An usher couldn't have made a lot of money. Iori on the other hand, had more in her purse than everything he'd spent on her since they've met, and even more in her remaining Traveler's Checks. Maybe she could reimburse him, but she highly doubts he'll accept the idea. There must be something she could do.

Jordan introduces Iori to the receptionist. It's clear they're familiar as they seem to know one another, but the woman seems a little slow in remembering. Telling her that Iori's a Japanese Idol, the receptionist instructs them to the studio and waves them through security. Being led through several different hallways, they make it to the dressing room.

"(Iorin!)" Ami energetically shouts in triumph, somehow happy she's the first one to see her teammate as she walks through the door.

Ami rushes up and joins her friend, but Azusa's stuck with the Makeup Artist. Ritsuko keeps her distance.

The very next thing out of Ami's mouth is, "(You don't really look more like a woman.)"

Iori hung her head. Was everyone thinking that when she left yesterday? Could it have been blatantly obvious, or was the only one oblivious to her confused emotions Iori herself? Ryuuguu Komachi's been together for awhile now, so maybe they know her better than she thinks. If so, they'll probably understands what she really means if she says this:

"What are you talking about? I'm becoming a more beautiful woman every day!"

Ami had a confused expression on her face, and Iori didn't realize until Jordan asked, "What was that?"

Iori goes red in embarrassment. She'd responded in English, not Japanese. What would the other girls read when they realize Iori responded in the wrong language? More crazy thoughts no doubt, and the last thing she wants to do right now was mislead them.

"Iori," Jordan doesn't give the girl time to clear up the accident, "the others are already in costume. Hurry up and change, and have the makeup artist pretend like she's doing Ami again." He gave instructions, but doesn't say why.

Not that Iori would question him, but she'd like to preempt him every once in a while and figure out what he really means.

Shortly Jordan exits and gives the girls their privacy. Since a girl is going to change, Richie is next to be kicked out. Dragging his feet as he walks, it's clear the young translator has subsided to the rank of whipping boy. It seems he was doing his job fine, but he looked dispirited. Perhaps this was poetic justice. After all, all this trouble started because he wanted to flirt with Azusa and Ritsuko, and maybe even Iori herself. Any illusions he had previously surely have been sunk. This was better for him.

"(Iori,)" Ritsuko was finally showing signs of life, "(he didn't lay a finger on you, did he?)"

Time for revenge, "(He was very gentle.)"

Ritsuko recoils so far back that it looks like she might break her own spine. Mortified beyond words, it's taking all her effort just to maintain standing erect. Her face is red and her glasses are starting to fog. To the observer, it was like a standoff between an accomplished gunslinger and the town drunk. Power existed only on one side and the other could only wait to be murdered. This spirit is broken with Azusa giggling, which is shortly followed by Ami. Both knew she was joking, and that Ritsuko was far too tense to recognize the sarcasm.

"Nihihihihi," Iori laughs.

Realizing she's been played, Ritsuko tries to be standoffish and says, "(You can never be sure with his type.)"

"(Nothing happened,)" important at least. She'd never admit to the non-important things however.

"(So did you hear Huntsman-san's story?)" Azusa does well to change the topic.

"(Yes,)" she was finished changing and joins her eagerly awaiting Makeup Artist. "(It wasn't a misunderstanding, but it's very complicated.)"

"(But you trust him?)"

A definitive, "(Yes.)" And before she forgot, "(Ami, sit back down on the chair and have the Makeup Artist go over you again.)"

Slightly confused, the young girl did as she was told. Since she was so young she had the least amount to be applied, thus finishing far before Azusa. The youngest had probably been idle for awhile now.

Not much longer after that did a cameraman knock and walk through the door. Ritsuko was startled and almost moves to intercept, but she sees the red light and backs away. They were recording.

Richie, who's half a step behind, translates what the cameraman's saying (of course Iori hears in first in English), "(Smile and wave everyone. You're on-air.)"

They do so, and the camera is centered on them for about 15 seconds while he slowly circles around. Shortly thereafter the light dims and he lowers it's focus.

"(Excellent. Good job.)"

As the cameraman leaves, a woman walks around him and approaches the idols, Richie picks up the translation, "(You're going on in about 20 minutes. We want a few shots of you in costume, then at the end of the hour you'll be we'll do a short interview with Iori Minase, take a break, do a closing segment and then you'll sing. Got everything?)"

Everything was pretty standard, but why interview Iori? Actually, it's probably because she's the only one who spoke English. Doing her alone would give them extra time as they don't have to deal with translations. Likely Jordan's input was to blame. When Iori thought about it more, this whole unscripted moment was his' too. Why? The timing seemed odd. Shortly after she changed did it happen. Ignoring the possibility of being caught on-film in her underwear, she changed because Jordan told her to. If she hadn't, she'd might have done makeup first. If that was on-camera what impression would it make? Two in costume and one not. He also had Ami return to makeup. This way they were completely synchronized and in unison.

There was plenty of time to discover why this was important while the Makeup Artist did her over. Ryuuguu Komachi didn't arrive together, but separately. What was her own teammates suspicions as to her tardiness? Not very flattering ones. So what would the public think if they saw that spectacle? Rumors would spread and likely effect their concert sales. Having all three members of Ryuuguu Komachi synchronized would alleviate any accumulating doubt. It was a clever way to cover up Iori being late. In actuality it might only be a minor issue, but it goes to show just how much effort he's putting into even the smallest details. If Ritsuko noticed this as well, even she couldn't help but be impressed. Jordan was indeed formidable.

"(You tried to get us on TV as well, didn't you?)" Iori asks Ritsuko.

Flinching and turning away tells Iori all she needs to know.

"(Jordan said he called in a 'favor.' I don't know exactly what he meant, but you should talk to him and ask him what he did.)"

"(Why should I?)" the manager was still being obstinate.

"(Because you could learn something,)" putting it bluntly. "(Your impression of him might be that he is aloof, but in reality he's meticulous to a fault.)" Even though she didn't know this for certain, Iori thought it was safe to assume. "(Everything he does is to achieve his goal in one way or another. He is unconventional, secretive, and clever. It's hard to get inside his head, but his heart is laid pretty bare. Jordan wants to help us, and you shouldn't need much more of a reason than that to trust him.)"

"(Then tell me, Iori, why do you trust him so much? Is it because he helped you? Because he appeared at the right time, at the right place, and did the right thing? I find it hard to believe that such a convenient story-book situation exists. Nobody could be that perfect. 'Perfect doesn't exist,' isn't that right?)"

Turning Iori's own words around on her. It seems Ritsuko's upped her arsenal since being left alone in the cold dark room of the hotel suite. Since then, however, Iori's also upgraded her armament.

"(Jordan has a martyr complex. He absolutely hates himself and can only find joy in helping others. Because of what's happened in his past he's completely abandoned his future. He believes he's hit a dead end in life, and when he trips up and falls he resorts to extremely destructive behavior. In the beginning I did follow him because he fit into that convenient story-book setting, but I stuck with him because I thought he was interesting. Now I want him near because I want to help him; because if we let him help us, in a way it's helping him. If there was something else I could do I would, but this is the best I can think of right now.)"

Iori's makeup is done. Standing, she grabs her beret and places it on her head completing her outfit. A deep blue dress with a single strap over her right shoulder, a multicolored seashell necklace, and purple knee-high boots make the signature Ryuuguu Komachi costume.

"(You think he's perfect? You're way off the mark. He's so imperfect, so fragile, that the slightest rejection is enough to leave him shattered. When you called him a 'murderer' and when he scared you, that was a hint of the hatred he has for himself. Yet despite him being broken he has the courage to put himself back together again. But he can't do it himself. He needs others to help him. By letting him assist us with our concert we're letting him get back something he lost. His reasons, in their own way, are selfish, but so are ours.)"

There's a knock on the door and an assistant tells them they're on in 5. Richie translates for the non-English friendly.

To Ami and Azusa it might look like the two are fighting. Iori has a deep respect for Ritsuko, and Ritsuko understands that Iori is worth all her trouble. If they were anything but friends they couldn't speak as frankly and openly as this. Iori would find it difficult being this critical towards Yayoi.

"(You better tell me everything you learned about his past,)" was as close as Ritsuko would get to giving her approval.

"(When we have time.)"

Following the assistant, they're led to the studio stage. As large as a small warehouse, this open room is filled with computers, desks, and equipment. More of an office than an area suitable for television recording, Iori sees an area in the corner of the room where the stage and cameras were installed. Currently anchors are reporting the news and cameras are broadcasting live to TVs all across the Las Vegas Valley. Many things are happening at once, and even though the scale is small, the importance is paramount. Everybody here is dead-serious about their jobs. Once too, when he was as old as Iori is now, Jordan was a part of this atmosphere.

"Which one of you is Iori Minase," an executive looking woman approaches.

"That's me."

"And you are fluent in English?"

"Absolutely."

"Good," she hands a paper file to Iori. "Here's a list of questions you are going to be asked. We've allocated 45 seconds for your interview, so please try to keep your answers brief."

It was a little more than a list of questions, but a script of everything the interviewer was going to say. Normally this wouldn't be very important, but some of the things that were going to be said beforehand were extremely interesting. In short, it was like a cheat-sheet into the very goals Jordan was trying to achieve in the past couple of days. A warm sensation envelops her and for a moment her vision goes blurry. Nearly did she cry, but she's quick to bring herself under control.

"Is everything okay?" the woman was concerned.

"Yes. Don't worry."

"(Iori?)" Azusa noticed that moment.

"(That sneaky little devil,)" was all she was going to say.

Told to wait in a spot slightly off-stage, they're subjected to another camera pan and scan before Iori is separated for her interview. There's only a few moments before she's live. Iori's interviewer is a hearty black woman that's particularly tall. A warm aura permeates through her and it only takes a second to tell she's a very friendly person. Her soft eyes and warm smile are perfect for the role she was given.

"So you are Jordan's latest pet project?" were the surprising first words out of her mouth.

"Yes. He told me he knew a news anchor, though I don't know if I should be surprised that she's the one giving my first American interview."

"Live in 5, 4, 3..." came the voice of one of the stage men.

"My name's Rachelle Jackson," the interviewer tells Iori real quick.

Turning to face the camera, Rachelle waits and smiles a moment before she is given the cue to start talking.

"Many of you might not have heard of Ryuuguu Komachi, but these past few days they've hit Las Vegas in a big way. Featured in an in-depth article in the Las Vegas Weekly, TMV also caught them giving a free performance on Las Vegas Boulevard."

"Cut to video," said the stage man.

Like a living statue, Rachelle pauses until given the cue to continue, "Known for their wide array of costumes, intricate dance choreography, and team-focused synchronization, the Japanese Pop Idols are truly a sight to behold. Appearing in person for the first time on American Television, I'd like to introduce Ryuuguu Komachi's team leaders Iori Minase."

Iori smiles and waves to the camera.

"Iori, first thing I must say is; I saw the video of you singing at the Marine Corps Ball last night, and I can barely wrap my head around the fact that you're only 15. How do you find the courage to stand up in front of a crowd like that and sing as well as you did, and in a foreign language? There's gotta be a limit on talent."

"Well Rachelle," Iori clearly speaks her first words on American TV, "it all comes from in here," she places her hand over her heart. "It's simply what I love to do, and I expose that love every time I'm on stage. Everything else is the combined effort of countless hours of training and practice, and the aid of my friends."

"And only at 15. Wow. You mentioned your friends." Slightly ad lib, Iori answered her initial question to lead up to the next question.

"Yes, Azusa Miura and Ami Futami. They're standing right over there off stage. Sadly they couldn't join me in this interview as they don't speak a word of English."

"And I must say you speak and sing it very well. Grown men were reduced to tears by your rendition of God Bless the USA." An impromptu remark made by Rachelle.

"The amount of love of country those Marines displayed was awe inspiring."

"Well I hope-" and Rachelle turns to the camera, "many of you go see them at the Green Valley Ranch tonight at 7pm and experience the same stellar performance they gave the Marine Corps last night. After the break we'll return and Iori Minase and Ryuuguu Komachi will sing their #1 single off the Japanese charts, Smokey Thrill."

After a moment the Stage Director calls, "Break to commercial."

"That went well," Rachelle had to comment.

"Likewise, it was a lot of fun," the pair shake hands.

That 45 seconds passed so quickly. For as last minute as this appearance was scheduled, that was the best for which they could have hoped. Even did they skip the question about the group's name. Doing the best with what she was given, it was now time to focus on the upcoming song.

"(Iori,)" speaking the girl's name in a slow manner that made it clear Ritsuko was upset, "(when did you sing in front of a group of soldiers? And who's dress were you wearing?)"

Richie must have been translating the interview, and if she knew about the dress they must have played a video taken by one of the Marines (Iori bet it was De La Torres).

"Ryuuguu Komachi's needed on stage."

"(They're calling us,)" Iori skirts by the issue.

"(You seem to be getting a lot of attention,)" Ami's voice almost seems like a pout.

Ryuuguu Komachi's being led to the stage, and Ami chooses now to voice her displeasure? If jealousy is fueling that comment, then it needs to be put to a stop right now before it disrupts their harmony.

"(It's not about who's given attention and who's not,)" Iori tells her. "(We're a team, and a team's purpose is to focus as one to achieve a single goal. If I'm the center of attention it's only because your support has made it possible. If it weren't for the both of you, none of us would be here.)"

Iori sees a wide-eyed display of shock on Ami as the young girl looks back. Even Azusa seems to be taken by surprise. Such a display of gratitude and maturity clearly weren't expected at that very moment.

"(Um,)" Ami doesn't know how to respond, "(I didn't mean-)"

"(It's alright. I understand. I know sometimes I can act selfish, and as a result I'm the one who tends to stand out. But know that I'm trying to improve, and that I really appreciate the both of you.)"

The most senior member decides to chime in, "(That was an abrupt confession.)"

"(Get used to it. We came to Las Vegas to save our careers and to grow. The one who needs to the most is me. We're not going to return to Japan as the Ryuuguu Komachi who lost to Jupiter, but as the idol group that was great enough to headline in Las Vegas!)"

"Starting in 5..."

"(Let's show the entire world what we can do when we're serious!)"

Ami and Azusa nod, then turn to face the camera. All three close their eyes.

Iori kicks it off, "_Shiranu ga_~" and the music starts.


	25. 25 READY ! !

Chapter 25

READY ! !

"This is where you were."

Jordan turns back from his workbench and sees Iori standing in the doorway, arms crossed like she was angry. In this dimly lit room filled with drawers and baskets full of electronic components, computer parts, and other various technological equipment, the tall man is hunched over a camera like a doctor preforming surgery. With a tool in each hand he's doing something with the recording device's intestines. After acknowledging his young female companion he turns back to his work.

"Yeah, have to pay for your favor somehow."

Trying to make herself mad because he missed her segments, Iori realizes it's an impossible task. For a moment she was genuinely upset, but after finding him all those negative emotions washed away like scum off the tide. Actually, it was kind of sad. After going through all the trouble of setting up this appearance he didn't get to watch.

"I wish you could have seen us on TV," morosely spoken.

"I did," and without turning back he points above Iori's head.

Following his aim the young girl sees a currently muted television adjacent to the doorway. In her blind spot, there was no way Iori could have seen that before making her mistake. It made her previous emotions of concern feel like a lie. Frustration at embarrassing herself almost made her lash out at him, but after taking a breath she let her temper cool. This too was a part of how Iori wanted to improve herself. She couldn't just say those things in front of Ami and Azusa. Most of the effort had to be made when they weren't present.

"They want you to fix that camera?"

"Yeah. This is a $40,000 HD camera, and there's not one single person in Nevada certified to repair it."

Then why was he digging around like a child who's just taken apart his father's watch?

"I said certified. That means you work for a company and they say you can do it. There might not be anyone certified, but there's one person qualified. See, if this Network wanted to have it repaired, they'd have to call for a service tech, pay his wage, pay his mileage, plus put up a room if it takes more than a day. It could cost them from $1,000 to $3,000 to repair the camera. Our deal was that they do me a favor, and I repair this camera for free. It all works out."

"Wait," Iori found an immediate problem with his explanation, "that's a complete rip-off! Any way you look at it they're just exploiting you! You don't have miss out on $1,000 to $3,000 just because you wanted us to appear on TV!"

To her concerns, Jordan sighs, "Of course I wouldn't miss out on that much money, but I wouldn't have been paid anywhere near that. I don't work for a company, and I'm not a business owner. I can't even call myself a contractor. If they would have called me without my stipulation of putting you girls on-air, they wouldn't offer me anything more than a couple hundred bucks to repair the camera. When you work under the table like this, you make far less than the professionals, even if you have even greater skill than their engineers."

It's completely unfair, "Can't you do anything?"

"My discharge is my stigma. If there's someone who'll hire me with this mark on my record, I haven't met them yet. But lately I've been thinking that maybe a person like that doesn't exist."

"No!" Iori yells in protest. "I'm sure-"

"'So maybe', I thought, 'I should hire myself.'" Jordan's words confuse Iori. "If nobody wants to pay me to work for them, maybe I should start my own business and work for myself."

For a moment Iori's reminded of her father, who in his youth built the Minase name from scratch.

"That's a great idea!"

"Yeah, not a bad one I say. But do you know how much it costs to start a business? I have to pay for a business license, permits, tools, advertising, not to mention I still don't have a car. I'll be in my 30s before I save up enough to get all those things done."

There was a solution to this problem, and it was in Iori's purse, but how to make Jordan take the bait?

"What about a loan?"

Jordan laughs, "Who would give me a loan? I have no collateral, assets, and my portfolio only contains my checking account. I don't even have a savings account. No bank would give me the time of day."

"You don't have to go to a bank. What about looking for an investor? Or even a partner?"

"Yeah, go up to all the people I know and start asking for money. I'd have an easier time getting hired at a kick-butt job."

Stubbornly disagreeing with everything she's saying, it seems Iori must flat out say it, "What if I gave you the money?"

Unlike all the times before, Jordan isn't ready with an immediate response. It even sounds as if he's even stopped working. Iori's being serious, and she wants him to really consider her offer.

"I didn't know you were 15," he confesses, "I thought you could have been anywhere between 12 and 20." Iori knew she was petite, but that broad an estimate kinda hurt. "It'd be like stealing from a kid. It wouldn't feel right."

Instinctively these words fly out of her mouth, "That kind of money means nothing to me!"

"Which makes it even more wrong to take it. If you care so little about your money, how am I supposed to care for it? Taking money from someone who so frivolously throws it around only makes me the hallow one. My idea will fail if I partner with someone who isn't as serious or more so than I. Your money holds little value."

Iori didn't mean it like that! Completely serious was she in her proposition, but she spoke without thinking and was careless. By being with and understanding the other idols, her grip on reality had become more centered. A conflicted feeling filled her chest when she received her first paycheck. It was less than her allowance. Iori had no use for so little a check, so she framed it on her wall as in memorial of her hard work. At the time it seemed like a good idea, but then she learned some of the other idols had to live off such meager wages. Yayoi needed the money to support her family and Chihaya Kisaragi lived alone. At one time Iori was so detached to not understand this, but no longer. Nearly unlimited funds were at her disposal, more so than what she could ever want to spend on herself. Her's was a sincere desire to help others, but she'd dug a hole and was now trapped within. Was there any way for her to convince Jordan to accept her aid?

"Thanks for the offer," capitalizing on Iori's prolonged pause, "but I'll do this on my own."

Shutting the door in her face, Iori's truest desire was denied. To be of help to this man, in return for everything he's done for her, she now knew what he needs, but not how to get it for him. Being direct only backfired. Some other path must exist somewhere.

Iori wants to shout, wants to scream out, "I understand! I didn't mean what I said!" but she knew her honesty wouldn't be conveyed. All because of a slip of the tongue he would stubbornly refuse any additional offer. Because they've been through so much together, she knew him well enough to correctly assume his intentions. Any continued effort would be futile.

"Done," Jordan announces. Gloating, "It'd take a professional hours just to figure out what was wrong, and I got it working in 30 minutes! Once they told me there was a lag between video and audio I knew exactly what to do."

Jordan was quite happy with himself and Iori knew it was best to let him be. His skill and expertise should be compensated handsomely, but instead he's elated even though he isn't making a dime. Maybe in this way they were the same. Iori wasn't an idol because of the money. Maybe Iori was acting as how she always hated. What she'd just done was equivalent to her father purchasing fame with his influence. With as far as Iori has gotten as an idol, she can be proud in the fact that she gotten there under her own power. She'd have hated her father if he'd swooped in and solved all her problems, and that's what Iori was trying to do with Jordan. But saying that Iori was alone wouldn't be completely accurate, as she was teamed with Ami, Azusa, and Ritsuko as Ryuuguu Komachi. That scenario differed then the one with her father. Iori, Ami, Azusa, and Ritsuko were partners, companions. Amongst all four they were equals, and they combined their efforts into one. Iori couldn't do the same with Jordan. Their positions were simply too different. That's the reason why Jordan rejected her. To truly be his partner, Iori would have to sink herself pretty low. Of that was she capable?

"The others must be waiting," cracking his back. "Let's get going."

Actually, that presents another problem.

"You didn't see?" Iori asks him.

His brow arches, "See what?"

"During our song, Azusa tripped. They told us it didn't air, and if you didn't see it I guess it didn't. She's in a pretty crummy mood. We were trying to talk to her, but she's pent up in the dressing room."

"Really?" his voice is devilishly amused. "The big girl gets like that, huh."

Navigating without the aid of Iori or the posted maps here and there, he'd gone from the tech cage to the dressing room without any trouble. It's clear he's been here enough to become familiar with the layout. Likely he's been paid a "couple hundred bucks" to fix equipment numerous times.

Unceremoniously he enters, spotting quickly Ami and Ritsuko by the side of the downtrodden Azusa. Those in support turn and notice Jordan, but the idol who couldn't find the effort to even change from her costume remains unresponsive.

Upon his entrance, Ritsuko tells them something.

Iori translates, "She says-"

Jordan skirts passed them and kneels by Azusa's side. The eldest woman weakly turns towards the man, only to find he's hoisting her onto his shoulder. She starts to yell.

"Okay," he somehow finds a way to raise his voice above Azusa's, "let's go. I'm sure we got some place to be."

Without effort he carries the full-grown woman as if she were a piece of lumber. Kicking, hitting, and screaming, Jordan cares absolutely none about the scene he's making. Those who see them are too amazed to move.

"She's telling you to-" Richie tries to translate.

"I know what she's saying," this was a very safe assumption. "Tell her this: I know a thing or two about falling on your face. You can't spend all day laying in the street. You have to pick yourself up and keep going. And you're lucky, if you're struggling you have people whose shoulder you can lean on, and even someone who'll take all your weight and carry you."

As she listens to the translation Azusa gradually calms down. For a moment Iori was worried that his actions were likely Azusa two least favorite things. Being suddenly apprehended against her will, let alone simply being touched, and riding on an unsteady vehicle. Bobbing up and down from his walking was going to make her sick.

"(You can put me down now,)" Azusa tells him after she's calmed.

"She said-"

"I know what she said," but despite his claim he doesn't put her down.

The expression so quickly changes over Azusa's face those following behind retreat in recoil.

"I seriously think you should put her down now!" Richie tries to warn Jordan.

"Naw, it's alright."

Azusa's gone from surrendering to a dead fish. Color's drained from her face and she hasn't the strength to raise objection. All her flailing around while he was moving likely contributed to the speed of this development. Each passing second was an intense moment.

By some miracle they made it to the familiar SUV without incident. Jordan place her down on the ground (she's in no state to stand) and turns to find the others following an extended distance behind. After raising considerable complaint and objections, they gather together and travel outward. Ritsuko drives.

"(Did you really mean what you said?)" Azusa asks after recovering enough to worry about other things, as translated by Richie. "(Did you really mean you could carry all my weight?)"

After taking a moment to think, Jordan responds, "While I can physically lift you, I wasn't talking about myself."

In a way, at the time, the man's words almost felt like some confession of hidden feelings. Azusa didn't know that for certain, thus she had to ask. But if he wasn't implying himself, then who was he?

"(Who were you talking about?)"

Jordan cracks a grin but doesn't respond. Someone who could support all her weight? If he wasn't talking about himself, then there was only one other person he could be implying. Ami was out of the question. Richie wasn't even a consideration. Ritsuko was a good manager, but in her position she was incapable of handling the things that were truly bothering the troubled idol. By process of elimination, that left only one person.

Those who overheard the conversation turn to Iori, while the girl herself uncovered his implications faster than anyone.

"You don't mean me, do you?"

"You're maturing by leaps and bounds, kid." And then, as if to tease her, "You're going to be something when you grow up."

What Jordan saw in her, has been seeing in her, and likely noticed by Azusa, Ami, and Ritsuko even if they wouldn't admit it, was potential. Everyone has potential, but being able to fulfill it is another matter. According to Jordan, Iori wasn't only walking down her correct path in life, but sprinting. Iori could only try to hide herself in embarrassment.

"So, where are we headed?" he asks the driver.

Translated, "We're going to the venue. We've taken our last stop."

* * *

><p><em>A nice short chapter for a change, but this respite will be short-lived. I've finally settled on the conclusion to the story (though I was pretty dead-set from the start, I just didn't know how to get there). As we can see, the Live is mere hours away. So I can say with absolute certainty, there are only 3 chapters remaining. I hope it's been as much an adventure reading my story as it was for me writing, but I'm being premature, so let me save all that mushy crap for the end. These last 3 are likely to be long. Like, <em>long _long, so they might be delayed somewhat. So save me being hit by a bus, as long as you wait you'll see the final chapter. Here's to me not suffering a horrible horrible fate before the conclusion._

_~Kyle Castorena_

_(I didn't just raise the Bad End flag, did I?)_


	26. 26 The world is all one ! !

Chapter 26

The world is all one ! !

"(How many seats do you think that is?)" Ami asks of anyone who would answer.

Ryuuguu Komachi stands on stage and faces the empty auditorium. The trio are side-by-side with their manager speaking with whom they believe is the Stage Manager. Right now everything is silent except their business chatter and the loud, echoic footsteps of those pacing around. With the houselights up they can see every single seat, and every seat they need to fill. Ritsuko undoubtedly knew the answer to Ami's query, but she's distracted with work. Jordan, who can't seem to sit still for some reason, might also know, but he couldn't understand her question. Iori had her guess, but Azusa, who's since recovered from her motion sickness, takes the opportunity.

"(I think it's about 2,000.)"

Roughly did Iori guess the same.

Two-thousand tickets to be sold. In the height of their career Ryuuguu Komachi had sold out an even bigger house, but that was a joint production with the other idols of 765. On their own they might have been able to do so in the past, but with their present standings it would have been very difficult. In the present day they have to fill each of these seats in a foreign country where nearly all haven't even heard their name before. Iori hoped that everything they'd done in the past couple days was enough to get their name spread.

Jordan continues to march around, his heavy footsteps pounding in her ears like a hammer.

"Will you cut that out!" Iori lashes out in irritation.

"I guess this lighting is adequate," as if that response was somewhat relevant or appropriate.

Making himself right at home, Jordan leaps from the stage and begins shuffling through the seating area. Doing Lord knows what, Iori decides to ignore him and leave the curious man to his own devices.

"(This is it, isn't it?)" asks Ami.

"(Yeah,)" Iori answers. "(It took a long time to get here, but this is it.)"

"(Do you think we'll sell well?)"

"(We have to,)" the leader didn't say. Instead, "(Of course we will!)"

When Iori confronted her president, Junichirou Takagi, back in Japan, he confessed that too many of their eggs was placed into this basket. That time seemed like another life ago. Did any of the others truly understand the pressure they were facing? Failure of this concert very well could spell the failure for 765 Productions. At every cost must they expend themselves to bring their goal to fruition. And have they? Have they done absolutely everything they possibly could to make this event a success? In the end it came down to time, and the clock's nearly reached the final hour. No longer did they have the luxury of promotion, now they must ready for the actual concert itself. This Las Vegas adventure had long left the beginning, and the middle has now passed. This was the beginning of the final act. The beginning of the end. Now they could only worry about the conclusion.

Iori knew what she had to do, what she had to do from now on. Turning to Azusa, the young leader checks to make sure her companion is ready. This morning they suffered an accident. Thankfully it was minor in scale, but the weight of the mistake must no longer weigh on Azusa's mind.

"(How about we practice?)"

Her proposition surprises the other two.

"(What, right now?)" Azusa seems to know this is directed at her. "(Nothing's set up.)"

"(It's alright, we can do this. We might not have our costumes, stage, or music, but it doesn't mean we can't practice.)"

If they were novices, this would have been a disaster in the making. But since so many hours have been put singing their songs, dancing their routines, they can still perform perfectly even without the music to help keep the timing. Or at least they should. This was a direct challenge to her two partners.

"(I'm game!)" Ami enjoys the prospect.

For a brief moment, Azusa appears worried. Her expression is loose and distant, but like a pro she washes it away with a flourish of determination. The slow-paced and often tired aura disappears, replaced by the ever-rare serious and focused temperament that can even make even Ritsuko back away. Nobody could stand against the elder idol when she was like this.

"(Yes!)"

Iori smiles and gets into position. There isn't even a need to discuss beforehand which song to perform. Proving their unity, all three silently decide on the same thing. After suffering through a slight mishap, they wouldn't allow it to stand any longer. To redeem themselves, they do _Smokey Thrill_.

As it happens, they needn't do without. Stage workers were arriving and they would have been delayed only a few minutes to set up the music and sound. Regardless, the stars from Japan push forward _a cappella_.

Picture perfect was their routine. No missed steps, no off timing, no error in the lyrics. Everything was at it should, and if an audience filled the theater they would have stood in applause. Actually, Jordan did (he was off in a corner of the room for some reason).

What they'd just done was for themselves. Now they must do it for the sake of the concert. After they finished their first song, Ryuuguu Komachi was approached by Ritsuko and some of the stage hands. Through Richie's translation they were told some sound tests need to be done. Each are handed wireless microphones/receivers. If everything went well, they could get this done after a single song. If there was a problem they'd continue until everything was worked through. Afterwords the set would be assembled and then they'd do a full rehearsal.

Telling her fellow idols, Iori proposes, "(How about_ Futari no Kioku_?)"

A vocal focused song, it was the perfect choice for a sound test. For the full rehearsal and actual concert, 765 hired local professional musicians to accompany their songs. Takagi really spared no expense in regards to this overseas show. However, for right now they had the Master CD, and that would serve it's purpose for this test.

Once the instructions were relayed to the Sound Engineer, they began. Futari no Kioku was a song from Iori's solo days before Ryuuguu Komachi. A smoother, softer song, it's focus was on Iori's vocals with Azusa and Ami doing backup. It's about finding a person in despair, helping them get back on their feet, spending time together, and then ultimately saying goodbye.

As she cycled through the lyrics, Iori's heart skips a beat upon a realization. This song that was crated over a year ago was about herself. Not as the winged angel who salvaged the person in distress, but the one being saved. The young idol can feel herself getting emotional, and her vision becomes blurry. She might be crying, but she's not sure. Even if this was practice or a test, she couldn't stop her song until it's over.

"_Itsumademo wasurenaide iruyo; Zutto zutto sora de mimamotte iru yo..._(I will never forget you; And I'll forever be watching over you from the sky...)"

Far within her zone, Iori couldn't tell that Azusa and Ami ceased singing backup. At the point where her emotions exploded, her voice and presence emerged onto a completely different level. Awed into submission, the pair lost their sense of presence and could only observe. Demanding such, Iori's ability rose to levels not before seen. Almost was this a completely different person from whom they've known.

"(Iori,)" Azusa weakly calls her name.

Knowing what her concerns were regarding, Iori wipes away her tears and faces her friends. Only does she smile, offering absolutely no explanation. Actually, Iori had no explanation to give. For a while something's been growing inside of her. A warm, deep, hidden treasure that allows her to tap into a well of amazing ability. Only slightly does the young idol understand it herself, but accessibility is becoming incrementally effortless. With continued use, then maybe one day she could find the words that best describe her feelings.

"(What's going on!)" was Ritsuko's urgent tone.

It didn't seem like their manager was commenting on Iori's new-found ability, but something of urgent, dire matter. Ritsuko's focus wasn't on the stage, but the near-empty auditorium. Specifically the pair at the very back. Jordan and the Sound Engineer. Hostility is obvious and the two appear to be arguing. Never had Iori seen Jordan this upset. Like a wolverine ready to strike, the former military looks about ready to pounce on the Sound Engineer and rip his head off, and the Sound Engineer, a scrawny guy about the same age, looks ready to fight back. Obvious to everyone but the Sound Engineer, Jordan has him completely outclassed. This very well could be pushed to a violent situation due to the professional's ignorance and unwillingness to back down. Only a disaster could this become.

Throwing the mic out of her ear, Iori leaps from the stage and sprints to the back of the auditorium and sound booth. The other follow, but without their friend's tenacity or energy.

She catches the tail end of the argument, "-and I'm telling you it's crap!"

The Sound Engineer doesn't take that laying down, "Who are you to tell me that my theater's crap? Before every performance I check every microphone, speaker, and every other piece of equipment to make sure it's always at it's best!"

To this Jordan retorts, "Oh, so it's not the equipment that sucks, it's you."

"You sonuva-"

"Stop this right now!" comes the booming voice of the Stage Manager.

Hostilities pause. The Stage Manager is an older man of an age Iori had mistakenly assumed of Jordan. Nearly all of his hair has fallen out over the years, and what little remained was as gray as could possibly be. Of the same stature as Jordan, what separated the two was their heights, with the former military only about 5 or 6 centimeters taller. Authoritative was the Stage Manager's aura and it was very difficult to disobey him. Of the two, Jordan was the least tempered so he hadn't a problem with yielding. Thankfully the Sound Engineer recognizes the threat his boss would pose, so he too backs down. Now that nobody's yelling they could get to the bottom of this conflict.

"First," the boss faces Jordan, "tell me who you are and why you're here."

Iori wanted to jump in and say something, but Jordan was in no official capacity with 765 Productions or Ryuuguu Komachi. He was a friend doing a good deed, but that gave him absolutely no authority on the legal level. The young idol couldn't think of anything to say.

"He's Ryuuguu Komachi's concert promoter," Richie translated for Ritsuko.

A lie, but it establishes his presence. At the very least he won't get kicked out.

After taking his cue to speak, Jordan handles the rest, "Jordan Huntsman, Concert Promoter."

"Okay," the Stage Manager accepts the (false) introduction. "Now what business do you have with my Sound Engineer?"

"He said-" interrupts the Sound Engineer.

"You shut up!" barks his boss. "Go ahead."

Jordan nods in thanks, "It's the sound coming from the speakers. It's unbalanced and sub par."

The boss turns to his underling to explain, "That's not possible. I EQ'ed only three weeks ago. Unless we're having massive speaker problems, which we're not, it's very unlikely that it could go bad that fast."

"Let's say it has happened. How long will it take to fix."

"Hours," Jordan overlaps the Sound Engineer's "An hour."

Jordan has become slightly irritated, but keeps his composure. The Sound Engineer laughs in a gloat.

"I can get it done in a little under an hour."

The Stage Manager scratches his chin, "That's a little more time than I would like to spend if it weren't completely necessary. Throw some music on there and let's take a hear."

Jordan sighs before giving his approval. As it's being set up Iori asks him about the situation.

"Prerecorded music isn't really the best we could do for a test, but I guess we don't have a choice."

"So what-" music interrupts before she can finish.

From what Iori can tell, everything appears to be fine. A quality-demanding orchestra is played and no abnormalities can she detect. However, the scowl on Jordan's face displays otherwise. What is it Jordan hears that she cannot?

After a minute the test ends.

"Everything sounded fine to me," the Stage Manager concludes.

"Don't tell me you can't hear it," Iori can tell Jordan's losing composure. "That was utter garbage!"

It's not so subtle that the man in charge can't tell Jordan's aggravation. What must be going through his head is something akin to when perfectly good food is sent back to a cook. All they have to do is slightly alter the presentation, then suddenly everything's magically solved. His decision is likely only to humor his customer.

"Okay, run the test. We'll set the speakers up again."

Groaning and clearly dissatisfied, the Sound Engineer agrees.

As they getting prepared to run the test again, Iori asks Jordan, "What exactly is wrong with the speakers?"

"It's the quality of the sound it's producing. Iori, I've heard you when you're at a 120%. In that song you did, I could tell you were in the zone. And by the awestruck expressions of Azusa and Ami, they could tell as well. But down here I couldn't hear it, feel it. If you were at 120%, these speakers are only at 80. It'd be-" Jordan stops mid-sentence.

Unsure what's going on, Iori follows his gaze to see the Sound Engineer setting up a stand-based microphone in the middle of the auditorium.

"Damnit," he curses under his breath, "I should have known."

Jordan marches towards the Sound Engineer with clear hostile intent. Everyone had been keeping a cautious eye on the "Concert Promoter" so when he starts to move, everybody was eager to jump on him. The Sound Engineer backs away defensively.

"Now what?" he makes sure to shout loud enough so everyone can hear.

"You can't run an accurate B-Chain with only a single mic!"

"What is it this time?" the Stage Manager is quick to interject.

"He says I can't run my test with a single mic."

"Haven't we always done it with a single mic?"

"Yes. It even says so in the manual."

Jordan's on the edge of losing his temper, "Whoever wrote the manual is an idiot. You need four-"

"You know," the Stage Manager interrupts, "Jordan Huntsman's no Concert Promoter I've ever heard of. And I know them all. From Don King to Chris Hornak, I've met, spoken with, and had meals with them all. You, I don't know. Now, I was trying to be kind because we have a foreign artists, but if you're going to push us all around and try to act a big shot, I'm going to have to ask for your credentials."

Jordan doesn't comply, but his steely expression is unwavering.

"Nothing? Well then, let's start all over again. Who the hell are you?"

Now Iori understood why Jordan said she must be prepared to drop him the moment he becomes an inconvenience. Here are professionals with many years of experience. If he were to be confronted by people of such caliber, it was impossible to emerge the victor.

"I'm an usher at a movie theater," Jordan boldly declares.

The two professionals laugh, and when hearing Richie's translation Azusa, Ami, and Ritsuko gasp. Upon learning the one who made this day possible swept popcorn for a living, how could they not?

"What, just because you work in a movie theater, you think you know how these shows run? This ain't no buck-fifty drive-in. I don't know what scam you've run to get yourself mixed in with these Japanese ladies, but you aren't welcome in my house! Get the hell out of here!"

How many times had Jordan faced this situation? Upon learning the truth, people turn on him. Iori tried to place herself in his shoes, run the same situation as if it were happening to her, but until she saw this scene she couldn't even come close to truly fathoming the scope of the terror it really represented. Helplessness. A situation she hadn't the ability to effect. So very badly did Iori wish to rush to his defense, but would anything she could say keep her savior from being rejected?

Understanding there was no longer a place for him here, Jordan turns to walk away.

"(Don't you move!)"

What surprised them wasn't the outburst, but whom came to his defense. Ritsuko stood blocking his escape. Richie, the translator, was even too shocked to translate. After far too long did he realize that everyone was waiting for him to tell them what she said. He began to translate normally.

Jordan was frozen in shock, unsure what to do. Surely this same scenario had played out before him many times before, but this was the first time that there was an interruption. No one had ever come to his defense.

"(This man has done more then I could even describe. I trust him more than anyone else in this country. I don't care if he's an usher or a criminal, he has my permission to be here. That's not a problem, is it?)"

Only one thing could possibly prevent Jordan's ejection, and that was a veto far overpowering the vote of the Stage Manager. Ritsuko Akizuki was the manager of Ryuuguu Komachi. More than that she represented Junichirou Takagi, the principle client. For this concert, Her's was the ultimate word. After all, the client is always right.

Seeing as there is no objection to her decision, Ritsuko continues, "(Jordan-san, why don't you tell us why we can't use only one microphone?)"

Flabbergasted, it takes a moment before he can properly respond, "Um, yeah. Right. See, if you use only microphone, all you really create is a sweet spot that can hear better than the rest of the house."

"But this is a mic that specifically adjust to the size of the room," the Sound Engineer tries to interject.

"That's a marketing ploy, and it's impossible. It might be able to make estimated adjustments giving the size of the room, but from a single location it's impossible to guess how the sound might bounce off of walls at different locations. You can't struggle against a room's natural acoustics, you have to use it to your advantage. The difference between the two will make a world of difference."

A Stage Manager was in no position to question the validity of his statements. He turns to his own expert.

"What he says isn't impossible," the 'Sound Engineer' meekly states.

"Not only is it 'isn't impossible,' it's the absolute truth. I don't care what manual you read, or what school you learned this from, you're only as smart as the one who passed on their knowledge. Or are you an innovator, someone who can just look at something, anything, and figure out ways it can be better?"

The Sound Engineer doesn't respond.

"The reason you didn't know any of this is that you're all too arrogant to admit someone could be better than you. Let me guess, you went to a very high-priced technical school for a degree nobody's ever heard of. Since it was a newly established course, there really wasn't any curriculum other than what your 'once in the industry' teacher set. The problem was, he didn't know what I'm talking about now, so you don't know it either. Then one day someone like you will become a teacher, and even less people will know the correct way to do this. All the while these shows degrade and Las Vegas as a whole suffers with each new generation taking the stage. Any of this sound possible, or familiar?"

Was it really necessary for Jordan to lay it so thick and tease them? Probably not, but this must have been years of frustration accumulated into this grimy muck of resentment. This was fun for Jordan.

"This technology going into theaters and concerts hasn't really changed in over 30 years. Especially in regards to sound. It starts with cutting costs and cutting corners. They think they're making something easier and cheaper. One microphone that can substitute for four. But the quality decreases a little each 'technological innovation,' that nobody can even remember how good it used to be. All of you work very hard and try to give the ticket-holder 'the best,' but do you even know what 'the best' is anymore?"

Not one to back down, ever, the Sound Engineer says, "Can you believe this bull-"

"Shut up Daniel!" shouts the Stage Manager. For a while he's quiet, deep in his thoughts. "When I was a kid, my parents took me to Vegas and I saw Elvis live and on stage. That was weeks before he died. I remember telling myself, 'I've never seen anything like this.' Now that I work with and see more shows than I could have even dreamed, nothing has even come close to what is was like back then. So you're saying it's over-complicated in it's simplicity that we've actually forgotten what really made stars like Elvis stand out? Kind of like these computer programs that help all these kid stars sing? I understand what you mean, but can your method really make that much of a difference?"

"It's an old method. Nobody really knows how to do it properly anymore. It takes too much time to get it set up. That's why you see the one-microphone install in manuals."

The Stage Manager takes a moment to think. It doesn't take terribly long for him to reach his verdict,

"What do you need?"

"You can't be serious!" objects Danial, the Sound Engineer.

"Danial, go home."

His scrawny body jolts in shock, "You can't be serious," he weekly says.

"I am. Go home for today. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"This is bull! You can't fire me!"

"I'm not firing you! You're too hopped up right now. Take the day off and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Danial doesn't take his lightly and makes a noisy exit, cursing all the while.

The Stage Director sighs, "Kid's too high-strung. You hurt his pride a little too much with that. But either way, he's no good to anyone right now. Better to give him time off so he can avoid you."

Iori figured Jordan must be snickering on the inside, but he gives a grateful, "Thanks," as his reply.

"So you were saying what you needed?"

"Yes. We need to get a multiplexer, but I know where-"

Only for a moment does Iori see the blur of an image from the corner of her sight before it strikes. Daniel returned in a full sprint and slams his fist into the back of Jordan's head. The tall man topples over but catches himself as he falls to a knee. Disoriented, he's helpless as the assaulter tackles him and mounts himself on top. A couple punches he lands before he speaks.

"You think you're so smart! Then how come-"

This doesn't last long. Ritsuko swiftly steps in and grabs the scrawny man by his shirt. Using her own weight as a pivot, the female producer twists her body and flings him off Jordan in a Judo-perfect maneuver. Caught by surprise he's helpless against the throw, but he manages to keep his balance when he lands a couple meters back. Unfortunately he isn't given the time to completely recover as Ritsuko drives an elbow dead center into his chest. Stunned, he's also helpless against the sweeping overhead kick that lands on the side of his neck. After that powerful blow Daniel crashes to the ground. For a moment he tries to move, but after a failed attempt he slumps over as he's lost consciousness.

"Are you okay?" of all the phrases she could have possibly learned, this was what Ritsuko asks Jordan in broken English.

Jordan, who's less shocked about getting attacked than by whom he was saved, is slow to respond, "I could've handled it myself."

She might have asked the question in English, but she didn't understand the answer. Before Richie can translate, Iori tells her that Jordan says he's fine. The small young woman offers her hand to aid in his return to his feet, but it should have been quite obvious Iori had absolutely no chance of supporting his weight. Jordan got up on his own.

"Stupid kid," says the Stage Director. "Would have still had his job tomorrow if he wasn't such an idiot. The Union's so tightly knit I couldn't replace him even if I wanted to. But attacking a member of a preforming band, there's nothing that can save him from that."

Because Ritsuko stood up for him, Jordan's association was firmly tied to 765 Productions. While not a member of Ryuuguu Komachi, he was a part of their staff even if only temporary. Attacking Jordan was the same as attacking Ritsuko or one of the other girls. There was no way Daniel could keep his job after this. Once Iori realizes these connections, she wonders if Jordan provoked Daniel on purpose expecting this outcome. No. For once she was giving him too much credit. If so he wouldn't have allowed Ritsuko to save his butt.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Jordan could tell something none too flattering was going on in Iori's mind.

"Nothing. I just thought that for former military you'd put up more of a fight."

"I was a UAV operator! I've never been in a fight my whole life! The most dangerous thing I had to worry about was diarrhea from the crappy food they served."

"Former military?" the Stage Director asks, unable to not overhear their conversation.

"Army. Long story."

"I see. Well, I don't know if you're a Concert Promoter or an Usher, but I'm down a man and could really use a hand. But you were already expecting that, weren't ya?" he extends his hand to be shaken.

"Yeah, happy to help."

As they shake, "Name's Steve Moon."

. . .

Things got hectic after Daniel was removed by security. Warning them that it couldn't be interrupted after being started, Jordan instructed the staff to assemble as much of the set before he returns. Leaving to "retrieve" this multiplexor from parts unknown, the man's absence lasts over an hour. Shortly after his departure did the hired musicians arrive for the rehearsal, but they weren't able to do so because things were now being done out of order and the schedule was wrecked. Thankfully they work it out with the Casino/Hotel and were given a temporary stage on which they could practice. Certainly were these musicians professionals as it took little effort to combine into a harmony with Ryuuguu Komachi, whom they only met today. They must have used to working with other talent as they adapt quickly. How many other concerts have these few played in a similar manner?

Upon Jordan's return the stagehands were given about a half-hour while he set up all the equipment. Once he was done they had to leave and couldn't return until he was finished. His overly-technical explanation indicated that any bodies present would disrupt the microphones. Plus he was going to flood the speakers with static-like Pink Noise and nobody would want to listen to that for very long.

Time was passing at an alarming rate. The closer they were coming to the curtain call, the faster the hour hand moves. Before Iori knew it, it was already noon; then afternoon. They were busy practicing, switching the playlist around, and making additions to the show. Several fresh ideas were coming to Iori now that her sights was set squarely on their performance. No longer did they have the opportunity to bid for a larger audience, only could they do what they could for the audience they did have. Thus her focus is narrowed.

Three hours before showtime, Jordan calls everyone back to the theater.

"(Please tell me I didn't waste these past several hours,)" Ritsuko begged of Jordan.

It was a huge gamble with time as the ante. Before she allowed him to do his adjustments, Ritsuko asked him if it was completely necessary. Jordan answered "No." It wasn't so bad to negatively effect the concert, and honestly, very few had the ears to properly tell from poorly EQed speakers. However, even if they don't know it consciously, it does effect their mood. To truly give the audience Ryuuguu Komachi's best, this had to be done. Now their manager needs reassurance.

"Oh, don't worry about that," and Jordan's tone is as confident as ever. Then turning to Iori, "Remember that I said the speakers were at 80%? Well, this is the difference of 20%."

Jordan plays the same classical song that was used before.

Assigning a number couldn't accurately portray the difference made. Before, it was alright. Normal. Nothing seemed amiss and was as expected. What they experience now, however, was almost like a completely different creature. Jordan was completely right, they'd forgotten how good "Good" can be.

What they heard wouldn't have been expected from speakers or a CD. Not did they feel as if they were listening to prerecorded song, but from a live orchestra with dozens of artists molding music into harmony. Most of those who were now listening do not have an experience with which they could compare. However, Iori knew of this and knew it well. Only could this quality be expected of an open-air amphitheater's passive sound amplification. This wasn't listening to music, but feeling it all the way to her very bones. Sitting in the Hollywood Bowl, her family by her side, on that warm summer night, listening to over 100 musicians. No, after digging deeper through her memories she found it wasn't quite the same, but still very impressive. Iori might even dare to say, "very damn impressive."

After a few minutes, Jordan saw fit to cease the test. He too seemed lost in the passionate wave in music, but only for a little while.

"I've never heard my showroom sound so good," Steve Moon, the Stage Director told him.

But a sacrifice was made.

"(We don't have time to do a full stage rehearsal,)" Ritsuko announces to everyone.

Jordan worked as fast as he could, hoping he'd finish before they hit that point, but quality has it's price. It was his failure.

"It's alright," Iori allows Richie to translate for her, as this way everyone can hear what she's saying. Separating herself from the group, she turns and faces her friends with the stage as her backdrop. "Our entire time in Las Vegas has been by the seat of our pants, so it wouldn't feel right if our preparations went smoothly. This trip isn't a steady train that arrives at it's destination on time and on schedule, but a jet-propelled dragster that we're happy didn't blow up before we crossed the finish line! By miracle, somehow we've made it to this point, and we're going to make it to the end. Because it has been so difficult, because so much trouble has found it's way in our path, this concert cannot be anything but a complete success! All our effort, hard work, and sincerity has been noticed."

Switching to Japanese, "(Raise your head, and everyone smile. Combine your strength, and aim for the light. There are friends in this world. Friends walking together with you- Don't forget it!)"

Jordan might not have understood the sudden switch, but that part was not meant for him. Was there a deeper meaning in what she said? Not particularly. In fact it was downright plagiarism; but in doing so Iori told her friends that there was only one thing left to do, in what they could put their trust: Their songs. Have faith in their singing, their dancing, and their songs. Ryuuguu Komachi would never have made it this far without those, and those were all that was left to be asked of them. What they must do now is of their best. After everything they've endured thus far, from this point on should be the easy part.

Iori extends her hand, hovering horizontally over open air. Ami and Azusa look to each other and nod, then pile their hands over their center's. Ritsuko comes in fourth, but she leave the circle open, incomplete. Looking towards Jordan, Iori motions her head telling him to, "Get over here." Joining them, he practically drags Richie with him. Both men place their hands in the pile, thought the translator seems uneasy. Ritsuko, who had initially voiced the most content to these two outsiders presence, gave the young man a nod in acceptance. Next the signal was given to Steve Moon, in whose house they were playing. Though a new arrival, he was given the same warm approval as the two others who've already contributed much to their efforts.

Six hands were piled on top of Iori's small and delicate own, though at the moment it possesses the strength to support all the lot. In a moment they will cheer, and Iori tells the English speakers with which phrase they would. Jordan and Steve laugh as if it were amusing, but Richie seems to understand it's significance. Well, Iori could explain it afterwords.

"Okay," Iori Minase announces, "3, 2, 1, -"


	27. 27 The iDOLMaSTER

Chapter 27

The iDOLM(a)STER

Behind the dropped curtain, Iori stands alone on the stage. Thinking this over hundreds of times, the young idol could envision no better way to start their show. From the very beginning did the Vegas guest want to grab the audience, however many or few they may be, and never let them go. Surely they could have proceeded as originally planned, but after seeing and living in Vegas these past few days, their perspective changed.

This was Iori's original addition, and she worked for the past few hours with the hired band and staff to make it possible. Much could be polished, but it was unexpected, striking, and paying respect to the city that welcomed them. Actually, the idea originated when Steve mentioned seeing a certain music legend in concert as a child. So too Iori had an experience with this Goliath, but all the more recently. Now to pay tribute to the icon, this city, and the journey she'd traveled thus far, there was no better choice to start the show.

Darkness shrouds the stage, and with the curtain it's completely abyssal. Flashlights and like devices were needed to get all the members in position. Iori's taking center and the band is situated in the rear. Ami and Azusa aren't needed immediately at the start, so they're waiting stage left and stage right respectively.

On Iori's cue everything will start.

Time was nigh. From the other side of the curtain chatter can be heard from those already seated. How many there was was unknown, but no matter the number Ryuuguu Komachi would give their best show. "Overwhelming" and "disappointing" were words they had to forget. Everything they could they did to fill these seats, and that was too late to change. After all their effort it was now time to forget that aspect and focus on one and only one thing; their performance.

Iori gives the cue.

A faint click is heard and the noise from the other side of the curtain gradually diminishes. This was the houselights fading to dim, signaling to those in attendance that the show was about to proceed. Nothing changed from their position on stage. Then a hum stirs the silence and the curtains gradually raise.

As planned, the guitarist begins with his solo.

Yet has a single light illuminated the stage. Fog machines begin to emit vaporized carbon dioxide and faint colored lights highlight the scene. Dim vent lights paint a pair of stairs on the left and right, accompanied by columns and the band between them all. Slightly overhead is a monitor screen that visualizes the beat of the music like a pulse. Mostly it's still dark.

The drummer now accompanies the guitarist.

Lasers emit and shoot across the sky. Neon colors dance around in random patterns. Iori's lone figure must now be distinguishable on stage. People start to murmur. This young teenager is the shortest amongst Ryuuguu Komachi and is also their center, a position of leadership. Here she stands alone, an authority of this entire theater. Those in attendance must be shocked by how small she really is. Only standing five foot tall (by US measurements), it must be remarkable that she'd earned the privilege of being on this platform. Alone as well, but still somehow in possession of a commanding presence that makes it appropriate.

By now this must be becoming a familiar rhythm. The bassist has joined and more murmurs are forming. Some even can be heard laughing and others cheer. On the far sides of the stage pyrotechnics flare and the spotlight shines on Iori. Completely pure, completely white, sparkling as small silver stars reflects light, Iori's clad in a sleeveless two-piece that was as close to the iconic garb that they had in possession. To add further fanfare, Iori swings her hips to mimic His motions.

But from here on, this was all her.

"_Bright light city gonna set my soul, gonna set my soul on fire._"

A slower pace than the original, this was closer to That Little ol' Band from Texas than The King. Iori moves in calm sways, snapping her finger in tempo with the music. As there was no way they could construct proper choreography in as short of time that they had, the idol had to wing it a bit. Though that might not be a problem as all the videos she watched on Jordan's laptop didn't have much in terms of dancing. Perhaps this was a song best song with a drink in one's hand.

"_There's a 1000 pretty women waiting out there, they're all living The Devil May Care._"

Spotlights illuminate each set of stairs. Ami descends with Azusa a beat behind. Bodies wrapped in feather-white boas, they give the illusion they're nude underneath. Ami less so than Azusa. Really only their midsections, shoulders, and legs are exposed, but the men in attendance seem to love it.

"_And I'm just a devil with love to spare._"

As Iori continues to belt out lyrics, her companions join her at her side. Both take an arm as if the girl in the middle's a high-roller. In-between words she kisses both on the cheek and then they slowly part, calmly singing backup

"_Viva Las Vegas! Viva Las Vegas!_"

Amping up, Iori can tell the crowd's getting into the song. Now that there's a pause in the lyrics, all three have a good moment to take notice of how many are in attendance. Only about half the seats are filled.

No more of it, the idols couldn't let themselves get distracted by turnout.

Not allowing herself to show weakness, Iori begins to clap her hands over her head as she sings. Further must she pull them into the show. Whether it be one-thousand or two, or even ten, everyone sitting in a seat has paid good money to see this, and they were going to make sure that with every cent they parted a memory of even greater value was etched into them.

People are following along. Not many cities have songs written about them, and singing one while visiting would certainly flatter them greatly. When Iori passed the suggestion to Jordan after the sound test, he enthusiastically approved. In fact he was somewhat ashamed he hadn't thought of it himself. As he said, "It was a perfect opening move to have them dancing at your fingertips." Well, it wasn't that she was manipulating the audience, but she got what he meant.

"_Viva Las Vegas!_" Iori gives the signal that she wants them to joint too. "_Viva Las Vegas!_" Always a risk, but it was impossible to not know the following lyrics and the audience would be more than happy to do it. "_Viva Las Vegas!_" The young idol extends both hands as if inviting them in.

"_Viva Las Vegas!_"

They did it! A sigh of relief almost escapes her breath, but she stops herself. Any nervousness lingering from that moment must be washed away immediately. It wasn't so important that it'd make or break the concert, but Iori had pulled herself greatly in their favor. Giving the audience something they would enjoy is the sole goal of any performer, and certainly were they enjoying themselves now.

Actually, now that she was interacting with the crowd, Iori notices the crowd has grown from before. While she sings she gazes into the audience to see. Not everyone is at their seats. Men are continuing to walk down the aisle while holding drinks. Was there a bar open? Actually, that shouldn't have surprised her. She'd been through more than a few casinos, and never was a bar far from sight. So these women who now sat alone had dates or spouses who have yet to return. Different from here, in Japan everyone would have been seated well before curtain call.

As the opening song winds down, the drummer goes into a solo. Ami and Azusa join their companion center-stage. Iori grabs the tail ends of the boas and unwraps the girls like Christmas presents. Of course they weren't nude underneath; purely was that an act for the Las Vegas illusion. Matching in style but not in color, Ami's in yellow and Azusa in light-purple glittery two-pieces. Throwing their former wear to the sides, stagehands swiftly pull them away while staying out of the spotlight.

_"Are you ready? I'm Lady! Hajimeyou; Yareba dekiru kitto; Zettai watashi NO. 1!_"

Confetti burst from cannons and glitters the stage. Some of the enthusiasm from before was lost, but that's because they've moved into unfamiliar territory for the native audience. To be expected, this was the reason Iori insisted they do a cover as their opening act. If that was the bait, this had to be the hook. Now were they close enough to be caught, and once they did, Ryuuguu Komachi had them for good.

Unlike the impromptu addition, this song had proper dance routines. While before they might have been able to appreciate the song, now they can appreciate the song and dancing. This was the whole package. If it wasn't enough to pull them in completely, then this was as good as it was going to get.

Iori notices something odd while she's performing; there are children here. Immediately does she regret the pseudo exhibitionism, but this was indeed a surprising demographic. Now that she thought about it at most of their concerts, and idol concerts in general, manly males from 16 to 22 were in attendance. Here there are men and women, young and old, and all matter of ethnicity. Asian, who were likely well-aware of Ryuuguu Komachi's American debut, occupy major segments of the premium seating. However, they are vastly outnumbered by the tall, broad-shouldered Caucasians, Africans and Hispanics. Not to mention the children. Very few boys, but a plethora of girls. Actually, many of the seats she'd discounted before were filled with the smaller-bodied children. So if she counted those still at the bar or maybe running late, and the children, the actual ticket sales could be-

"_Saa ichi ni tsuite Let's go!_"

Electricity is running rampant on-stage. A change has overtaken the idols. First it originates with Iori, then filters to Ami and Azusa. More than before, and nearly completely by surprise, adrenaline begins surging through everyone's bodies. Ami and Azusa are at first a bit shocked, but they quickly glance at each other then at their center. It's her, she's hitting it again. That special, unknown, exhilarating place that separates the performers from the stars. Almost do they feel like they're being left behind, but they're not the type that will let their partner leave them in the dust. Following in her wake, Ami Futami and Azusa Miura also push themselves onto a whole nother level.

Striking the audience with their energy, this surge pushes many over the edge. Few are starting to cheer, but that accelerates. Those who were unsure, on the fence, or were dragged here are really starting to enjoy themselves. Even if they might not want to admit it, they are really liking what they're seeing. Fans are being born.

The song is about to end, but nobody wants to cut the current momentum they've built. Here they were supposed to pause and introduce the group, but it'd be such a waste to pause at this point. Before they finish, Iori signals to the band to keep going. Not only did the musicians see this, but also the staff. The intros were being pushed back a song. They communicate and coordinate over the radios and prepare themselves. Could this have upset or annoyed the stage hands? Unlikely. After all, the energy of this night's concert is filtering to them too. They want to keep this going as much as the idols.

_"Kimi ga fure takara nana iro Botan_-"

Definitely slower and less energized than their last song, _Nana Iro Button_ was meant to calm them from the hyper-paced _READY!_ Originally it was meant as the opening to the slower-paced set, but it also served this other purpose as well. Iori and the rest thought long and hard about their revised play-list, though it seems changes would continue to be made on the fly. Well, if the performers and the audience were both having the same amount of fun, then that really wasn't a problem.

Their second single after _Smokey Thrill_, _Nana Iro Button_ was a visual centered song that allowed the other members to appeal as much as their center. There were more solos and highlight portions for Azusa and Ami, and here they were introduced as more then Iori's right and left hand. Each are an idol and a talent in their own right, even if they are currently joined as one as the group Ryuuguu Komachi. This song was their declaration, "I'm here too!" Actually, the dance almost seems to mock Iori as being an attention hog.

As the song ends, the ringleader finally allows the rest to take a breather. Since she is the only one who speaks English, and there isn't a translator available, Iori addresses the crowd.

"Hello everyone! How are you doing?" Her answer is cheers. "Thank you! I'm glad to see everyone's having a good time! My name is Iori Minase, and as I'm the only one who speaks English, you're going to be hearing from me most of the night." She pauses for a second. "'Sorry' in advance." This receives a healthy chuckle of laughter. "In all seriousness, we are Ryuuguu Komachi. To my right is our youngest member at only 13 years old, Ami Futami. And to my left is the cool and sexy Azusa Miura. Let them know you like them by giving them a big ol' round of applause!"

As Iori was the only one who could communicate with the audience, that also meant the other two didn't know what Iori was saying when she was. Of course they knew she was giving introductions, but the exact specifics were unknown. Each perked up and gave a wave when they recognized their names being spoken, and the applause at the end let them know exactly what they thought. Even if they couldn't understand the others words, that doesn't mean they couldn't let them know how they felt.

"Thank you everybody! I don't want my friends to feel left out. So how about we go ahead with another song!"

Taking the lead for the first time, the keyboardist plays a light piano tune. It's a very light ballad which clearly indicates it'll be heavy set into the vocal category. Subtle is the dancing and almost looks more like a ballet. Very different then their previous songs, the audience waits in heavy anticipation in what they expect. Couples sway and a generally warm atmosphere overtakes them.

Ami takes the lead, "_Hajimatte yuku; Hatenaku tsuzuku hitotsu no michi wo._"

Showing them a very different side to themselves, Ryuuguu Komachi sing the vocal powerhouses that are _My Song_, _relations_, and the fun _Kosmos, Cosmos_. After this three-song set, Iori and Ami leave the stage.

Standing alone, Azusa shifts her persona to what was very different than her normal big sister-type. A song from her solo days, this was the piece that was supposed to display a darker, harder version of the idol. The fans might of bought it, but the others at 765 Pro couldn't picture Azusa other then the slow-paced individual that she was. Regardless, it was a good song. Completely the opposite of their previous song, this was a bizarre mix of Gothic, techno, and ball.

Incorporated into the music, voices speak in near-inaudible tongue until Azusa begins, "_Take a big chance on me, mayoi nado yurusazu ni_."

Completely seduced by this version of Azusa, the adult males in the room go wild (hopefully the single adult males). Her moves on-stage are sharp and aggressive. Not particularly popular in Japan, the American audience loves the shift.

Towards the last segment of the song there's a long instrumental solo. Spotlights drop and Azusa is lost from view. When it returns half a minute later Azusa stands in a Gothic/Punk black dress and purple skirt. Not only that, but she's joined by Ami and Iori, both in different, darker outfits. Ami is sporting a leather jacket with the IA logo on the back, a yellow and black plaid skirt, prison-striped socks, and a chain around her waist. By far the furthest from theme, Iori's in a blank and pink dress who's top half looks like it was out of the 50's baby-boom generation, and the bottom skirt out of a myopic tween's closet; accessorized by a white belt and black knee-highs. All three have a large red rose over their left breasts.

The completed trio now finish _Mythmaker_ and follow up into the Rock-inspired _Overmaster_. Following is the equally suggestive _I Want_. Afterwords two of the idols leave the stage and it's Ami's turn for a solo. Taking things in a slightly different direction, the high-energy high-paced _YOUouMYshin!_ was something different for the US audience.

Backstage Iori and Azusa were given a breather. Both were physically fit, especially the older sister, but their energy was draining faster than normal. All this excitement was pushing them to a level they've never before known, but as a result their bodies were discovering brand new aches and pains. A pleasurable side effect however. This was how they knew they were growing and improving. Another costume change was in the line-up, so they took the time to go ahead now even thought they had to wait for Ami to finish up then do the same.

_Little Match Girl_ and _Meisou Mind_ round up the Goth/Punk/Rock segment, then would come the duets. The great part about having three people singing was that they could split up and take rests individually, keeping the show running without interruption. This was the rest and recovery segment for two.

Ami and Azusa took on the power-ballad _Marionette no Kokoro_. Bidding farewell to the alternative mix, the rest of the show was to be the more traditional Japanese Pop. Iori was a bit worried how this foreign audience would handle something so culturally different, but the mood in that theater was sky-high. At this point fingernails on a chalkboard would sound like Mozart. Not saying Japanese Pop was like fingernails on a chalkboard.

Iori and Ami performed _kiramekirari_, and afterwords Ami sat out while Azusa takes part in _Shiny Smile_. With everyone jumping on and off stage, the three became clad in summer beachwear (perhaps a little too revealing in Azusa's case), and sang _Colorful Days_, _Kami Summer_, and _LOBM_.

Next was something highly anticipated even if the idol didn't know so herself. By now the audience was becoming accustomed to the format of the show. One or two on stage while the others recover or change costumes. So far there's been every combination or solo except one. When Azusa and Ami left the stage and there was only one remaining, there was a very surprising cheer. It was Iori's solo.

Each idol had their demographics. Azusa was popular with the men, Ami with the children and mothers, but Iori had a broad-spectrum appeal that surprised even the girl herself. Iori plays herself as a mannered, delicate, proper Lady. Though she's more of a spoiled princess, the two aren't particularly far apart. Fans knew this (even if Iori believed she was putting up the perfect front) and had attributed to her a _tsundere_-type personality. That draws a certain type of fan. However, here in another country, all her past and personality has been reset to zero. Everyone here was given a first impression. Those who were her fans, or who favored her over the other two, weren't the type with whom she'd became familiar. In this city, in Las Vegas, those who found her appealing were those attracted to her charisma, personality, and ability. A lot has happened leading up to this point, and it's greatly effected her physically and emotionally. And who she was becoming was a star of enormous talent. Everyone coming to this concert had their own expectations, but all of them, every single one, was blown away by the power possessed by this 15-year-old idol. To them, she was the concert.

Iori almost can't begin by the shock she receives upon the sudden ovation. Half a beat late, she begins, "_Kinou made no ikikata wo; hitei suru dake ja nakute._"

At this point it's becoming difficult to look into the crowd. Glow sticks are popular amongst concert-goers in Japan, but not so much here. For close to two hours have the idols been upon this stage nearly nonstop. No matter how much voltage they had running through their veins, a marathon of this length would effect just about everyone. Plus singing and dancing for extended periods of time had a way of depleting the brain of oxygen. Not that she was irresponsible to allow herself to fall into danger, but this long night's performance was beginning to effect more than just her muscles. Iori couldn't see how the crowd was reacting, but she could hear, and that was good enough for her.

At the end of _Jibun REST(a)RT_ Iori left the stage to the band. There was one last costume change to make, but before getting undressed the tired young idol makes it to the oxygen canisters.

"(Are you okay?)" is the obvious question of a very worried manager.

Not bothering to speak, the recovering professional nods. With her heavy breathing, sweat beading out of pores all over her body, and her revealing swimwear, she looks like a boxer taking a rest at her corner in between rounds. Even more so with the serious and focused glare in her eyes, as if she's looking at something far away.

It hit's Ritsuko, the notion of Iori. Tonight she's given a incredible performance, her best yet, but even now she doesn't seem satisfied. The manager's young charge and friend is looking to climb even higher then she is now. Returning to Japan in the state Iori's in now would certainly revitalize Ryuuguu Komachi's career, but even that didn't seem to be good enough anymore. To what was Iori Minase looking so far in the distance?

"(It's incredible, isn't it?)" Iori suddenly asks, neatly placing the oxygen canister nearby.

Somewhat surprised by the sudden words coming out of the other's mouth, Ritsuko wasn't too shocked to respond, "(What is?)"

Talking while she's changing, this conversations hadn't escaped the notice of the other idols, "(This, here. This concert. We're in a country that doesn't speak the same language as us, gathered people who've never heard of us, singing songs they can't understand, and despite all that we have them at the edge of their seats.)"

"(Yeah, we sure are awesome!)" Ami gave her two cents.

Yet Iori shakes her head in dismissal, "(No, it's more than that. I'm not sure of what exactly, but I'm starting to see a larger picture.)"

A vague description was the best she could give. Language, culture, personality, appearance, music, talent, history, encounters; all were forming into an equation, creating something greater than each individual component, but each of the segments didn't appear to fit as of yet. Maybe one day in the future she'll discover this mysterious formula that inspired this moment, but this wasn't something she couldn't be dwelling over tonight. They had one more set to sing after all.

Iori places her beret over her head, completing the signature outfit. Same as when they appeared this morning on TV, Ryuuguu Komachi were in uniform. Looking to her two other companions, who've changed while the center was performing her solo, they give their approval. In silent agreement they give the signal to the band members. Never ceasing playing, they go straight into _Me ga Au Toki_.

Afterwords came _CHANGE!, _which could be the favorite song of the night. Marveled by it's fast pace and high energy, the audience responds enthusiastically. It's clear they don't want this night to end, and honestly, Iori too wishes it could go on forever. However, the point she was most dreading was already here; the final song.

When the song ends, there's an ever-rare lull. Applauds dwindle to nothing and it's nearly completely silent. Ryuuguu Komachi's US representative steps forward. Just about everyone was anticipating what was to be said.

"Thank you everyone! I hope everyone's enjoying themselves!" which receives an accolade of cheers. "Thank you! We love you all!" Pause for more cheers. "Las Vegas has become special to us, and we'd like to go on all night, but we've reached our final song. So everyone, please share with us a little bit more of your time. Thank you everyone, and have a good night!"

Those who watched the news this morning had seen this once already, but never could they be disappointed. Ryuuguu Komachi's breakout signature piece, _Smokey Thrill_.

And within a few minutes, it was over.

After giving a bow, the three exit the stage, followed shortly thereafter by the hired band. Thunderous applause shakes the very air, causing the wall to vibrate. Then something that's followed at the end of nearly every concert follows, a loud and synchronized shout for "Encore! Encore!"

"(I wasn't sure they'd start that,)" Ritsuko meekly confesses.

"Hey," the guitarist calls out, "you want us to play one more song? You didn't select an encore song before we started."

While Richie translates, Iori mulls it over. These professional musicians have been excellent thus far, but exactly how far into 765's catalog have they practiced? Before she could come to a decision, and hand is placed on her shoulder. Looking up, the team leader sees her older partner standing above her. A moment later another hand is placed on her other shoulder, this time the younger. What exactly are they signifying?

"(This is your crowd,)" tells Ami.

"(Isn't there one more song you'd like to sing?)" asks Azusa.

Seeing where this is going, and at least more insightful than Iori, Ritsuko has the final say, "(Don't you have one last thing to say? Something you have to do before we leave this city?)"

Finally did she realize what they were implying. Certainly, one last thing to say, one last song to sing. It's been done once before, but to whom she was singing commented that he couldn't hear her at her best. Or, as he put it, 120%.

Organized in their unruliness, the theater audience were now stomping their feet as they shout. Upwards of two-thousand people all doing that at once was enough to shake this whole structure.

"They're going to bring down the house," Ami amusingly observes in broken English, though who knows where she picked up the phrase.

Iori nods and tells the band the song they'll perform. Leaving the other members behind, Iori takes the stage alone. Unlike the last time she did a solo, this time the audience becomes mute. Before the idol begins there was one thing she had to say.

"Tonight couldn't have been possible if not for the efforts of one very special person. This person was a friend who I met right here in Las Vegas. So many things this person has done, I cannot even begin to express my gratitude. So to you, you know who you are."

For the first time since any of Ryuuguu Komachi has known her, and probably anyone else at 765 Production, Iori bows. This girl who always carries herself, who's self appearance is nearly always at the forefront of her thoughts, proper manners yet a defiant attitude, bows all the way to a 90-degree angle.

"Thank you!" she shouts, perhaps even stressing the amplified speakers.

When Iori raises and faces the crowd once more, she does so with tears running down her cheeks. A light commotion begins to stir. None of the audience knows of whom she is referring, but all can tell "this person" is important to her.

"I dedicate this song to you!" and she slightly chokes on her words.

Beginning the final song, the keyboardist plays a nursery rhyme melody and the drummer stomps on the bass drum to keep a beat.

_Itsumo no youni sora wo kaketeta / I flew through the sky like always_

_Zutto zutto dokomademo suzuku sekai / in a world that goes on endlessly further and further_

_Iron na koto ga okiteru machi wa / I'm just cruising along mindlessly_

_SUPIIDO ni tsuiteyuku dakede / through the bustling streets_

_Mou seiippai / I'm beat_

_Sonna toki ni mitsuketa / It was at a time like this_

_Boroboro ni natta kimi / that I found you, all exhausted and worn out_

_Naze sonna ni / Why is it that you possess_

_Kanashii hodo kokoro ni kizu otteru no? / such a painful, wounded heart?_

_Yume ya kibou uchikudakarete / Having had your dreams and hopes crushed_

_Akirametanda ne / you've given up, right?_

_Boku ga chikara ni natte ageru yo / I'll give you the strength that you need_

_Kimi no subete wa kokode owari janai / Everything that is you doesn't end here_

_Mae no jibun wa RIRAITO shiyou / Well let's rewrite your old self_

_Ureshii koto de / with happy experiences_

_Tanoshii koto de / with enjoyable experiences_

_Itsumademo kono mama de itai ne / Just hope the situation can stay the same_

_Zutto zutto issho ni iraretara ii ne / and we can stay together forever and ever_

_Genki na modottekite yokatta / It's good to see you've become lively again_

_Futari de ganbattekita yo ne / We've worked hard_

_Demo sore mo owari / But even that is going to end_

_Soro soro kurunda ne / It's coming soon_

_Saigo no shuumatsu ga / Our last weekend_

_Moshi mo boku ga / What will you do when_

_Sora ni kaeru toki ga kitara dou suru no? / my time to return to the heavens has come?_

_Sugoku naite te wo tsukande / Will you cry badly, will you grab my hand_

_Hanarenai no ka na / unable to let go?_

_Nani mo iwazuni sayonara suru yo / I'll make my farewells without saying anything_

_Kimi to deaete sugoku ureshikatta na / Being able to meet you made me happy_

_Tsuraku naru kara subete kaesu yo / because things will become too painful to bear_

_Waratta koto mo･･････ / The laughing･･････_

_kiss shita koto mo･･････ / The kissing･･････_

_Itsumademo wasurenaide iruyo / I will never forget you_

_Zutto zutto sora de mimamotte iru yo... / And I'll forever be watching over you from the sky..._

* * *

><p><em>I cannot begin to explain how difficult this chapter had become. Between real-life issues and the challenge of putting a music concert into words, I'm surprised my head hadn't exploded. Well, I hope this lives up to the 26 chapters of buildup. If it hadn't, then I'm sorry for wasting your time. But here it is and now it's gone. The concert is over. With that this fairy tale is nearly complete, but the stroke of midnight has hit and the spell has ended. Only one chapter remains. Hopefully it won't take an entire week for me to finish.<em>

_~Kyle Castorena  
><em>


	28. Final  Futari no Kioku

Chapter Final

_Futari no Kioku_ / The Memories we Share

Tallying the financial results of this event would compare to something like this: Only 70 tickets shy were they from a fully booked house. Taking into account the rental fee for the showroom, airfare, lodgings, equipment, advertising (that wasn't freely promoted through Jordan's shady methods), wages for all personnel including the stage workers, one interpreter, the manager and idols, in the end the made a slight profit. However, the aim of this International Concert was to bluster sales back at home. "Internationally Renown" and "World Famous" were great monikers. In this they surely succeeded and achieved their objectives. 765 Production had cleared the risks and won their gamble. Junichirou Takagi wasn't in danger of losing his house nor his company.

But that was just measuring ticket sales. After the concert they sold Ryuuguu Komachi merchandise. Two-hundred CDs of Ryuuguu Komachi's singles; sold out. An additional two-hundred autographed photos of the idols; sold out. Pictures taken with the individual idols; forty with Ami, fifty-one with Azusa, seventy-nine with Iori. Sales of all additional merchandise netted them an additional seven-hundred-thousand yen. Tack that with the profit from the ticket sales and this ended up being very lucrative in an of itself. Though Ritsuko was clearly upset that they had so few items to sell. Azusa and Ami tried to console their manager, telling her that this kind of success couldn't be predicted. That did little in the face of the money they could have made, but she was incorrigible at this point.

None of this seemed to affect Iori, however. What worried her the most when they first set out on this trip no longer seems to matter. Her friends and her company were safe, in fact better than before, but none of this made a dent against the giant stone wall which had been erected around her heart. The conclusion of this event was cause for celebration, yet from here there was no jubilant atmosphere. What caused this?

A very simply thing to explain, it was. After her final solo and the curtains fell for the final time, the young awestruck idol rushed through the back hallways to the sound booth at the rear of the theater. There there was someone who deserved perhaps as much credit as the star herself if not more so. At this moment, right after the concert, as soon as possible, she had to see him. But he wasn't there.

The first time she thought their parting was eminent the man insisted he stay. As it turned out there was more he could do. Reuniting the lost idol with her friends was only half the battle. Next they had to focus on advertising their concert. Afterwords he found yet another reason to stay. While not crucial, the theater itself needed repairs that he was qualified to make. Even during the show he found a way to make himself useful. Now that it's over, now that the climax had passed, he was gone. Jordan could no longer find a reason to stay, so he did not.

Inevitable. Unavoidable. This Iori should have never ceased to consider. Never should it have left her mind. An outcome which couldn't have changed. What did she expect would happen? What was she wishing for? Another ending to this story was impossible. Despite knowing, despite fearing, why did she pray so hard that this wouldn't be, that time would stop just for her? For as much as she prepared for this trip to Las Vegas and this concert, no amount of planning or foresight could prepare her for the shock of that man not being there.

Iori continued the night as if she never found that empty stall. For the interactions with the new fans she'd made in this city after the concert, she forgot the turmoil which existed within her.

A few familiar faces were actually in the audience tonight. Col. Tom and Sgt. De La Torres, and others with whom she danced at the Marine Corps ball. Rachelle Jackson who interviewed her this morning and a few others who claimed to work at the TV station and knew Jordan.

Also was there a man who claimed to be somewhat of a mentor to her savior. For pocket change Jordan helped around the mentor's house. They knew each other through the theater, and with helping with chores and other work he couldn't normally do himself, the elderly man taught Jordan much of what he knew over his decades long career as an AV Engineer. Iori imagined there were others like this man with whom Jordan traded services for instruction and education.

At some point Jordan personally called him up and told him of the show. Had it not been for his recommendation the mentor wouldn't have even heard of this concert. Even did this man call some of his other acquaintances and have them check this out as well.

Really, to what length was Jordan willing to go for Ryuuguu-no, for Iori?

This wasn't good, everything started to remind her of his absence. Though the worse was yet to come.

One of the last ticket-holders to exit the Grand Events Center was a familiar face; the first person Iori met in Las Vegas outside of Jordan. Vanessa Brenton. Not only her, but the singer under her charge. Though they had never formally met, they had once shared each others presence. It was the World Famous Maurus. For a moment Iori forgot herself, but that would have been for the best if not for what would come next.

After the greetings were out of the way, Iori and the rest of Ryuuguu Komachi was commended by the star for their outstanding performance. Perhaps for the first time they tasted the true scope of their success; being complimented by an established international artist. Surely this was to be their highlight of the night, but something spoken immediately afterwords broke that for Iori.

"I have a bone to pick with you and Jordan," Vanessa tells the young idol.

This sudden verbal accusation startles her, "Excuse me?"

"Why didn't you tell me you found out where your concert was?"

Despite not having a means of contacting the woman who put them on the path of finding her friends, Iori wondered why Jordan hadn't given this woman a call.

"I didn't find out about it until I saw you on TV," Vanessa continues to explain. "There was no way I'd miss this, but I did have to give those tickets to my sisters."

"I see," Iori awkwardly responds. Iori completely forgot about those tickets that were given to Vanessa. But something seems odd. Iori then asks, "Why did you have to give away your tickets?"

"The comedy show and your concert were at the same times! I could only go to one."

"I could only go to one," repeats itself in Iori's head, but in Jordan's voice. Why did she imagine his voice when those words he never spoke? While not a scholastic savant, Iori was intelligent. The gears inside her head start to turn and pieces she didn't know were part of a puzzle are put together:

Ryuuguu Komachi's concert and the Comedy Show were at the same time. Vanessa was given two tickets. Jordan said he won them. Also did he say that promotion was incredibly important because shows across Las Vegas were heavily discounted because of the unique date (11/11/11). Jordan's occupation is that of a theater usher.

There might have been several things Jordan didn't reveal about himself when they first met, but during his time together with Iori he crafted only one lie; he didn't win those tickets.

Suffering capital damage, a crack was stricken in the dam which was holding back Iori's emotions. Giving warning that she was about to burst, a tear suddenly rolled down from Iori's cheek. Noticed by just about everyone, Iori had no choice but to give her abrupt farewell and retreat.

Just how much was Jordan willing to sacrifice of himself for Iori's sake! Even all the way back then he knew this commitment couldn't be halfhearted. Jordan said he might have liked Vanessa. At the time she thought he was just playing it cool, but later she thought he said so because he felt inferior. What about now? How exactly was she supposed to process this new information?

Jordan bought those tickets because of the discounted price. After Iori explained her situation over dinner at the Italian Restraint that first night, while he might not have known they were at the same time he knew they were on the same night. If not for Iori falling into his lap, he would have asked Vanessa on their first date. Instead he simply gave them to the female manager. Forget self-sacrifice and his inferiority complex, the bottom line was that he chose Iori over Vanessa. Had the situation been even slightly different, he wouldn't have been forced to make that choice, but he did. He chose Iori.

How was Iori supposed to interpret this? The young and emotionally fragile idol knew how she felt about him, but how did he feel about her? Could it not also be possible that he liked her as much or even more then she did him? Did he not allow her into his bed last night? At the time he wasn't aware of her age, and if he was he wouldn't have allowed it to progress that far, but he didn't learn about it until the next morning while she was being interviewed. So how deep did his feelings run? Actually, doesn't his stealthy retreat explain enough? If they were simply friends, couldn't he see her off with a smile? He must have thought himself incapable of such actions, so he removed himself from the equation. Almost completely certain was Iori that he had very strong feelings for her. She had to go see him!

And do what?

Iori knew where to find him. All she'd have to do was go to his apartment and speak with him. Then what? If he said that word, that "L" word that Iori now expected, what was next? Their parting was inevitable, so what would be the next step?

A sensation so hot it burns fills Iori's petite chest. If they would have to say goodbye no matter what, wouldn't they want to make one last memory? Only one way would that progress. What didn't happen last night would happen tonight. Like a firework that could only last an instant, in what little time that remained they would celebrate their mutual overpowering emotions. If she met him tonight, they would have sex.

Even if her feelings towards her savior were strong, the thought very much terrified Iori. More so that she knew exactly what was to take place. Had she given away her first kiss before coming to Las Vegas this might not be as difficult, but things had escalated so much that it'd be her virginity that wouldn't be returning with her to Japan. Forever would her world change if she chases after him. If she did, after tonight she'd be an adult. The word seemed very scary to her right now. Though she might find her courage the closer she draws to his apartment, for now she is very much a coward.

So now she stands at a crossroad. By leaving, Jordan drew a line in the sand. Their relationship could no longer continue as it once was. How much the man had been holding back she couldn't exactly tell, but as she thought back the signs were becoming increasingly clear. His limit was reached by the completion of the concert. No, maybe it was her encore solo that pushed him over the edge. Even if he couldn't understand the words through the song that was dedicated to him he understood her feelings. For someone who'd committed a crime and been shun as he has, what was the outcome of someone sharing so much warmth with him?

Even if her age wasn't a issue, their relationship wasn't necessarily a bad thing. However, tonight could only become an end, not a beginning. Iori had to leave. This was the simple truth. Perhaps Iori could deal with this outcome, but what about her partner? Maybe Iori was ready to bid farewell to her childhood, but where would that leave Jordan. Iori is the first person to completely accept him since his discharge from the military. She was his light, his hope. After she is gone, what would be left of him? Many reasons contributed to his escape, but this must have been the most prominent. If Iori returns to him and they share their hearts and bodies, could he survive losing the brief warmth he obtained? The man himself must have thought he couldn't.

A very important decision stood before her, one with very real consequences.

After considering it greatly, Iori made her decision.

. . .

"(Iorin?)" Ami nervously asks as she enters the pitch-black suite.

After Iori ran away in tears, it was left to Azusa, Ritsuko, and Ami herself to handle the continuing onslaught of newly-made fans. Even though it was all in the same building, it took nearly an hour before anyone could make it even back to their room.

None of them knew what exactly set it off, but they all new the cause. Everyone tired not to notice, but Jordan had vanished. Easily did they understand why (coming to the conclusion far sooner than Iori), but they didn't know of what she was capable in her fragile state. If anything they knew she had to return to this room. However, too much time has passed since they were separated and it was extremely likely that her business in this room had ended. If she wasn't here there was only one place she could be. If she wasn't here, they all knew what she and that man would be doing. It was difficult opening the door.

"(Is she in here?)" Ritsuko meekly asks.

Darkness has taken the room and there was no immediate signs of occupancy. For all they knew the young girl had come and left.

Everyone was frozen at the doorway too scared to learn the easily deducible truth. Many years might have existed between the three of them, but exactly how mature were they? Could any of them honestly say they'd been put in a similar situation, or that they had someone as special to that girl as Jordan is? Was there a right to criticize, lament, or even advise those two? All of them had known for a while now how Iori felt, but the exact serious of the situation wasn't known until she broke down and cried in the middle of a fan-to-idol face-to-face. Iori might have been the second youngest of the group, but her maturity and emotions were now perhaps the strongest. After all, hadn't Iori found what Azusa was searching for herself?

Ami seems to be the bravest in this situation. Leaving the other two behind she hits the lights and uncovers the mystery of the suite. Although a large room, inside there is nothing visibly disturbed. Not a single item seems to be out of place, and there's certainly no teenage girl inside.

"(Don't tell me-)" Ritsuko began to mumble.

"(Wait!)" Azusa yelps in a low tone.

Leading to the bedroom, the door is clearly closed. From somewhere beyond a low tone can be heard. Coming from the bedroom one could assume what sounds they could be, but that notion had to be discarded. Iori and Jordan couldn't possibly be in there together. First it didn't make sense, and second not enough time had passed for such a trip to be made. Still, something unknown lurks beyond, and they approach cautiously.

Pressing her ear against the door, Azusa heard, "Ugggghhhh, waaaaw!"

No way would they mistake Iori's voice, but what could she be doing in there?

"(I'm going to-)" Ami was about to enter.

Azusa grasps the child's shoulder and jerks her back, displaying almost unbelievable power. The older-sister wasn't trying to be violent, though it almost seemed that way. This situation was familiar to her. No matter what that door mustn't be open.

"(It's fine,)" she tries to offer an explanation. "(We should just leave her alone.)"

Ritsuko didn't quite understand, so she too places an ear against the door. After a moment she solemnly nods.

"(I see.)"

Understanding, she leads the youngest away from the door.

"(What's going on?)" Ami didn't want to be out of the loop.

Certainly to the child it must have sounded terrible. From the other side Iori sounds like she was screaming, either hurt or dying. Something like a cold dark hand grasped at something inside her chest, squeezing it tight. Ami didn't like this at all. It scared her terribly.

Ritsuko didn't even know how to explain, so she turns to Azusa.

"(Iori, she,)" Azusa uncomfortably fidgets, "(you could say she just broke up with her boyfriend.)"

Thus was Iori's choice. No matter how much she wanted to, how much she might have subconsciously desired the outcome that was expected, she couldn't go meet Jordan. As time passed she realized it had less to do with courage, and more to do with the man's feelings. It was Jordan's decision to flee, and she accepted his judgment. What her companions witnessed was the results of breaking one's own heart. Uncontrollable in it's fury, Iori had collapsed upon herself and sobbed, cried, and screamed like a toddler. It was a pain so intense it reduced her to a shriveled mass of a human.

Though what bothered her the most might not have been that their relationship ended, but how; not with a bang, but a whimper.

Azusa had some experience with this symptom, but the effects she was witnessing now were extreme. In the end all the girlfriends whom she consoled knew in some way that those boys were no good for them. However, the pair in this situation that were forced apart almost seemed too perfect for one another. Honestly, the older woman was a bit jealous of the chemistry between Iori and her foreign love, but after seeing that strong young girl reduced to this state, the woman was a bit scared.

Having no idea how to deal with this situation, the best Azusa could decided was to leave her leader alone. Very proud was Iori, and if she came to this decision on her own they must respect her resolve. Normally it was a friend's duty to be a shoulder on which they could cry, but the only one close enough to fill that role was Yayoi, but even Iori's best friend seemed insufficient in this situation. All any of them could do at this point was pray that Iori found the strength to survive this crucial point.

A celebration was in the works for tonight, but after hearing their leader's state of mind they cancel. Not even could the remainder of Ryuuguu Komachi find the strength to go out and eat. Silently they agreed to turn out the lights and all go to sleep. Iori was left the bedroom to herself.

. . .

The worst morning has dawned. Each day in this city was welcomed with a calm and soothing bliss, but today Iori woke with a pain in her chest and a headache, not to mention the sting of swollen eyes. Only making it worse the sun was hitting her room full blast as she forgot to draw the curtains before she went to sleep. Actually, she didn't even remember laying down for the day's final rest. At some point while she was crying she drifted from the waking world. How late into the night had she been in her shattered state she didn't know, but time has passed and it was now a brand new day. A fragment of it's former self, the pain that had stricken her was no longer overpowering, even if it was still present. As she was now capable of more, there was no reason to mope alone any longer. She rose from bed.

Looking at the clock, it was only 7:30am.

Iori immediately wanted to crash back down in bed, but her mind had already been made. Besides, at this point she was too awake to have any hopes of falling back to sleep.

First duty of this morning would be to take a shower and cleans herself. Looking in the mirror she cringes at the damage crying yourself to sleep could do. Puffing from her cheeks her red, swollen sockets almost look like they belonged on a fish. Completely unacceptable, had her father known that she was put into this state by a man, the party responsible would find themselves with concrete shoes at the bottom of Tokyo Bay.

Iori laughs. She had to give herself that; some way, any way, to poke humor at herself. Had she told the Iori of one week ago something like this was about to happen, she clearly wouldn't have believed herself. Even now it was a bit hard to fully comprehend. Iori Minase thought she knew herself, but by looking in the mirror she truly understood how childish her sense of self was. Maturity, emotions. Now she knew how much she really lacks as a woman.

Having thought that, removing her clothes so she could bathe didn't really help her self-image.

Washing away the dirt and grime as well as the grim mood from the previous day helps her recover. Wishing she could say she emerged from the shower as a new woman, at the very least she felt considerably better. Diminished in her swelling, it'll be a few hours still before all evidence of last night's mood vanishes. Time will eventually solve this problem, as so too would it mend her wounded heart.

Now that she thought about time, the clock's nearly struck the final hour. This was the last day. At 7:21pm tonight, Ryuuguu Komachi were to board their plane and return to Japan. It was time to say "Goodbye" to Las Vegas.

This city meant so much to her, but it couldn't anymore. After all, she wasn't alone. Last night, even over her crying, she heard her friends return to the room and she didn't hear them leave. The party they were supposed to throw never materialized and it was Iori's fault. Never was this trip about her and it was completely unfair to Ami, Azusa, and Ritsuko for having to deal with her problems. No more. With what time remains she'll show them the side of Vegas which so far has been exclusively her's.

Ushering out the others so early in the morning might not have won Iori any favors, but immediately did they realize what she was trying to accomplish. Right now the heartbroken idol needs to focus on something other than herself. This wasn't a difficult thing to allow her to do. After all, shouldn't the others have grand memories of Las Vegas as well? They couldn't let Iori have all the fun.

Nearly immediately did Iori notice the lack of a translator. As it turns out Richie's contract expired at the end of the concert. Not particularly sad was it to find him gone, but in a weird way his annoyance had grown on them.

Iori led her three friends on a sort of non-linear version of the adventure she'd taken. They visit casinos, restaurants, and malls with whom she'd become familiar. Finally had she the chance to spend her money that had been largely unused for the majority of the trip. A bit of a spending spree was unleashed. Maybe this was one of her way of dealing with stress. Clothes, jewelry, cosmetics, and presents are purchased as if they were critical supplies for an upcoming zombie apocalypse. There was a desperation in her buying and Iori couldn't hide that from anybody. If her family wasn't so mind-numbingly wealthy the other of Ryuuguu Komachi would have put a stop this.

Inside the Forum Shops near one of the fountains of Greek Gods, Azusa pulls Iori away from the group.

"(I'm sorry, but I have a favor to ask.)"

Not many people ask Iori for a favor, so of course she was willing to help, "(Yeah, anything.)"

"(I really hate to ask this, but, can I borrow some money?)"

Never has any of the other idols ever asked to borrow money from the one who had the most. Despite offering time and again to her financially-challenged best friend Yayoi, it was like Iori was asked to display a skill that has been thus unwielded.

Perhaps for the first time today, Iori looks truly happy, "(Sure! No problem! How much do you need?)"

"(Maybe,)" and the shame was blushing her face red, "(a hundred dollars?)"

To a working girl who still lived with her parents, a hundred US Dollars (around 80,000 yen) must have felt like a lot a fortune. To Iori it was pocket change.

"(No problem!)" without hesitation she hands the singular bill to Azusa. "(Which store are you heading into?)"

"(Thank you. The one we just passed.)"

Looking back Iori sees high brand designer woman's accessory store. There must have been a purse she couldn't quite afford. With a wave and a smile Iori bids her friend farewell until the transaction is complete.

But she makes sure to watch the older woman walk into the store. Azusa's lack of geographical acuity is the Eighth Wonder of the World. Also does Iori check to make sure there is only one exit.

Never straying too far from the storefront, Iori watches the two others as they converse by the fountain. Perhaps it's a lecture about Greek mythology because Ritsuko has on her 'student council president' look and Ami appears to be studying. Not that this last long as they're quick to find themselves separated from the other two. With haste they spot Iori, but only Iori. Doom spreads on their faces.

As they run to the idol's side, "(Where's Azusa?)" Ritsuko nearly screams in a panic.

"(She just went back to one of the stores we just passed.)" Iori points, "(She's in there.)"

Actually looking back, she can peer through the window and see the entire sales floor unobstructed. Azusa isn't there.

For a moment, it sounds as if even the fountains have stopped.

Iori's eyes become nervous and she starts to tremble. With her mouth half open one can nearly hear her teeth clicking. The young idols expression is that of someone who'd just seen a unicorn in a mid-air collision with a passenger jet; something so strange their brain couldn't comprehend and overheated. After all, didn't Iori make sure to watch the woman enter? It hadn't even been a minute! How could Azusa disappear so fast? Was she Houdini in her past life?

"(Are you sure she went into that-)" Ritsuko was shouting.

But Iori was already on her cellphone dialing Azusa's number. Not much time had passed, so she couldn't have gotten very far.

Seeing the young idol already resorting to desperate measures, Ritsuko and Ami were none too reassured. Anxiously they wait.

And wait.

"(She isn't picking up,)" Iori's voice trembles as if she's in a haunted house.

"(Look for her!)" orders Ritsuko. "(She couldn't have gotten far!)"

"(Wait!)" Iori shouts as she's recovering her bearings. "(Ami, you go that way and cover the exit. Ritsuko, go back a little ways and turn right at the fork, it leads back to the casino. I'll head this way, it's a dead end. After we check both ends we'll meet up with Ami.)"

A tactically-astute plan of action. They break like a highly-trained military unit and begin their search. Iori frantically searches every single store she passes while always trying again on her phone. For a while there was no answer, but eventually the number got shut out altogether. Either the reception was too poor in this mall, Azusa had somehow traveled so far she was out of cell range, or for whatever reason her phone was shut off. Out of the three, she hoped it was some other fourth option. Abandoning her phone she focuses on visual confirmation.

Unfortunately she reaches the end of her route with no luck. Back at the fork she meets up with Ritsuko, and the pair make their way to Ami. By far the youngest had the longest trek, so it would have been understandable if she missed something. As a team Ritsuko and Iori look through each store and make sure they don't accidentally pass their target. Unfortunately they make it to Ami without uncovering even a single track.

This was bad. The more time was passing the more damage was being done. Azusa might not even be in this casino at this point. Logistically speaking, it should have been impossible for the lost woman to have escaped undetected, but their results show otherwise. Now wasn't the time to think with logic, they had to imagine the ridiculous and try to somehow find themselves on Azusa's trail. Although there was a problem; only Iori could navigate in this English speaking city. Splitting up wasn't an option and Richie has since left their employ. Nothing was looking good.

Dread makes time melt away. There are still about four hours before their flight, but nobody forgot it took Iori over a day to find her friends, and she had a guide. Finding Azusa in this tourist congested vacation destination would be a hyper-challenge of the highest order. Minutes were melting away into hours.

Two hours before their flight, after fruitlessly searching as far as they could on The Strip, Iori suddenly receives a call. It's a number she can't nearly believe, mainly because she'd been trying to call this exact same number since the disappearance. It's Azusa's number.

"(Hello?)" the young idol's voice is hysterical. "(Azusa, is that you? Where are you?)"

"(I'm sorry, I got a little lost,)" which was a colossal understatement. "(Can you come pick me up at-)" and she told Iori her location.

Iori's flabbergasted. It's a name she hasn't heard at all. After studying and traveling all around Las Vegas, to be given a name that she didn't know was painful. But it did somehow sound familiar. She asked for more detailed information.

Eventually Iori deduces the location. Actually, it should have been more than a little familiar. From traveling between Jordan's apartment and their hotel, two freeways were always used. At the junction between the two was a mall. Several times had Iori passed it and wondered about the big blue building with the "R." As it turns out it was a mall, and that's where Azusa is now.

As a side note, because it would have caused anyone's head to explode if they tried to track how Azusa got there, but the mall was about four kilometers from where she asked Iori for money. All the way at the South end of The Strip, on the other side of the Airport. Everyone was just thankful they'd found their wayward friend.

Taking a cab, they arrive about twenty minutes later. Azusa waited patiently with no more urgency or eagerness then if they were a boyfriend who was habitual tardy. Not a great amount of time existed before their flight, so from there they head straight to the airport.

Azusa's explanation as to how she wound up so far away was so convoluted it was nonsensical. Apparently she got lost, got pushed onto a bus, and when she got off she'd arrived at a new mall. So she looked around to try and find her friends until she remembered her phone. Seeing that she had so many missed calls, she called the last on the list.

Far too many inconsistencies to even count. Eventually they gave up.

The shuffle of checking in their baggage, going through security, and walking to their terminal nearly ate up all of their time. Less than half an hour remained before their flight. By this time everyone was starving, but they didn't have nearly enough for a full meal. Only mediocre fried fast food would be their last memory of Las Vegas.

By the time Ryuuguu Komachi arrive at their gate, they can see the plane taxiing. Only a matter of minutes exist now. In Iori's head, it's like a clock is counting down to zero. Already should it have felt over, but some lingering remains; some attachment. But everything has ended: her time, her concert, her relationship. It's as if she's waiting for some last minute fairytale magic to come in a fix everything that's wrong. But what's wrong? Isn't this the most favorable of outcomes? The concert was a success and the 765 Pro is safe. What more could she want?

"Not with a bang, but a whimper."

Catching Iori talking to herself, Ritsuko could only ask, "(What?)"

"(Nothing,)" was her response.

Even though the plane has landed, it's an excruciating amount of time before anyone disembarks. Then they have to wait even longer before they even allow anyone to board. This is merely a domestic jump as they have to switch flights when they reach LAX. Groups A through C board and take unassigned seats. By some act of fate everyone but Iori was in group A. She was in B.

But even before A can board, the handicap get first priority Some of which are obvious as they are in wheelchairs or are on walkers, but there was a few who didn't appear to need preferred treatment in any way. Greatly was the young heiress irritated.

"(I knew I should have borrowed my father's jet,)" she complains.

"(What's the matter with you?)" Iori's shift in attitude was clear to everyone, but it was Ritsuko who spoke out. "(Why are you in such a hurry to leave?)"

'A hurry to leave?' Was that how it appeared? Iori didn't know herself. Many conflicting emotions were taking battle inside of her heart. Time whisked by in a flash, but now suddenly it's slowed to a crawl. This entire trip has been a roller coaster, but it seemed the greatest dips and turns were saved for the very end. Wasn't it supposed to calm at the end of a storm. This felt less like a storm than it did a bomb. Like a fuse was lit and there was a killer anticipation before the explosion. It was confusing and a bit painful.

"Now boarding group A!" was yelled by one of the airline employees.

Iori translates and expects her friends to leave her behind, but they stay and wait.

"(What are you doing? It's time for you to board.)"

Azusa eases closer to where Iori is sitting, wraps her arm around the younger's own, and rests her head on her shoulder.

"(What are you doing?)" Iori yells in a frantic embarrassed panic.

Somewhat mimic her older companion, Ami also places herself at the opposite side of her group leader. Though the youngest is more like a cat nestling against the foot of her master than Azusa's affectionate girlfriend.

"(You too?)" Iori's nearly hysteric.

"(You girls,)" Ritsuko sighs. Trying to offer an explanation, "(I don't think anyone wants to leave you alone.)"

Iori wanted to grumble, "(They sure have a strange way of showing it,)" but the words never form in her mouth. Intentions as clear as day, the leader of Ryuuguu Komachi nearly told them it wasn't necessary, but while they were at her side Iori was very warm. It felt good. These were her friends and they wanted to help. Though the swelling of her eyes might have vanished, a needle of pain remained in her chest. This made it feel better.

Not long passes before they call for the second group. Ryuuguu Komachi rises from their seats as one, and they head in to board the plane.

. . .

After they board the flight and are well airborne, Azusa will share what really happened when she disappeared:

Using borrowing money as a pretext, what the older sister really wanted was to separate herself from the group. As she headed into the store she saw a service entrance used by casino employees just outside. The moment Iori turned back to the fountain Azusa skirted away in a hurry and hid herself in the obscured hallway. That search which would eventually take place was restricted to areas accessible to the normal customers, not the labyrinth of generic white hallways. These were for the retail employees, security, and the parcel deliverymen to move shipments without bothering the public. Just about everywhere could be reached from this secondary access ways. As for Azusa, she had a place she needed to find.

Before anyone started to congest her phone with calls, Azusa had to dial a number she wished she never would. After a few rings the opposite party answered.

"Hello?"

"(Richie, this is Azusa. I need your help with something.)"

Switching to Japanese, "(Really?)" he sounded too excited. "(Sure, anything! But I'm between classes right now, so I can't move around.)"

"(Thank you. I need you to find out where Jordan is right now.)"

There was a pause. Perhaps this wasn't the kind of favor he was expecting. Certainly it must have felt like a kick in the pants. After receiving a call from such a beautiful, mature woman and having her ask about another man must have hurt the former translator's pride. Though, as he was also witness to everything that's happened between that man and her group leader, he could probably deduce a reason or two as to why this was important. No longer was he on the clock and getting paid, so this truly was a favor. Nothing did he have to gain.

"(Yeah, okay,)" he wasn't entirely trilled, but cooperative. "(Actually I already know. He's at work.)"

"(I thought he might be,)" and it wasn't a hard deduction. After all, did he not spend nearly all this time together with them (or at least Iori). He'd have to work sooner or later. "(Do you know where he works?)"

A pause.

"(Actually, I don't. I know he works at a theater, but I don't know which one.)"

"(Can you find out?)"

"(Yeah, let me give him a call.)"

"(No! He can't know I'm coming.)"

Though this was perhaps the most unproductive method to take, still he agreed, "(Um, okay. I have an idea, but I might not be right. He rides his bike, right? So it has to be reasonably close to his apartment. He told me he lives behind the Palms, so there's three I can think of. One is in the Palms, the other is at the Orleans, and the other-)"

After the fight between the Stage Manager and the Sound Engineer before the Live, Iori told them the story Jordan shared with her. Azusa doubted it was the first two. First the casino nearest to his apartment didn't seem a likely choice. If so he wouldn't need to ride his bike and by his muscular build it's clear he's still physically active. It'd be far too easy to get lazy and fat if so little effort was required to get to work. Richie's second option didn't seem likely either. First off, they'd already visited that casino today. It's not highly probable that they would have run across him, but that just didn't seem like the correct choice. So Azusa chose Richie's third opinion.

After hanging up she she repeated the name of the location over and over again in her head so she'll know what to tell the taxi driver. Now all she needed to do was find the front of the casino so she could meet one. By now her phone was ringing non-stop so she couldn't return to the main promenade. Turning off her phone she put faith in her own skills of navigation and ventured off on her own.

As it turns out, she really did get lost.

Nearly 45 minutes passed with her turning down halls, checking doors, finding dead ends, retracing her steps, and her generally being disoriented. Eventually she found herself in some kind of underground road, but there were cabs so she took it as a completed goal.

It took almost half an hour to reach the destination Azusa repeated to the cab driver. Traffic was terrible, but that was probably because the driver chose to stick to Las Vegas Boulevard instead of any side streets. When she arrived she was dropped off at the front of the mall.

Unfortunately she didn't know exactly where this theater would be. Thankfully everything was outdoors so she wouldn't get too disoriented, but that didn't really help her find the building any faster. For nearly an hour she walked around looking for the place, and at a time she thought she found it, but it turned out to be an electrics warehouse. The shopping carts should have given it away, but with all the time that was passing Azusa became increasingly flustered. Eventually she found the building for which she was searching.

Not particularly long was it until Ryuuguu Komachi's flight. At the very least Azusa figured she'd have enough time to check at least two or three theaters, but she barely had time for the one. This was it, sink or swim.

After passing through the vestibule with it's long lines and monitors undoubtedly displaying show times, Azusa found herself at the podium with a young dark-skinned girl tearing tickets.

"Hi, what show are you seeing today?" she asked in a friendly tone.

Of course Azusa had no idea what she said. Probably something related to movies. She'd need to rely on Richie for when she wanted to speak with Jordan, but the adult idol wanted to see how far she could go on her own.

"Jordan," at least the name was universal, "Huntsman-san?"

For a moment the girl was confused. "Jordan Huntsman-san?" She looked back to the monitors to her left and right that were telling what was playing in what theaters, "I don't think we're playing that film."

Words were being spoken that Azusa couldn't understand. Realizing a dialog was impossible, she reached for her phone and began dialing a number.

"Is something wrong?" a short man in a suit approached them.

"Yeah, she asked something about 'Huntsman-san.'"

The man in the suit took a look at Azusa and repeated, "Huntsman," without the -san. Then, "Oh, did you mean Jordan Huntsman? I'll give him a call on the radio."

Azusa didn't know what was going on, but the man in the suit took his radio and called someone.

"Jordan, can you come to the podium please? Someone's looking for you."

Were they calling security? If she got held up while they asked her all these question she couldn't understand, even more time would be sacrificed. She probably got the wrong place after all. If she cut out now maybe she'd have the time to check one more place before her limit expired.

"Got it," a somewhat familiar voice buzzed over the radio, "I'm on my way."

Nodding, the man in the suit turned to Azusa and said, "Don't worry, he's coming."

The man in the suit smiled and walked away. Why would he do that if they were going to detain her? This might had been the best opportunity to flee, but the situation unfolded oddly. For the moment she'd put trust in her judgment that she'd chosen the right theater.

"Oh crap," a recognizable voice moaned.

Azusa rapidly turned in the direction of the voice and found Jordan in a completely black uniform with a blue "R" over his heart. Excitement nearly overtakes her as she's successful found her target, but then she remembered she was supposed to be mad at him. That's right; last night he left her precious companion without even saying goodbye. The entire night they had to suffer listening to Iori's uncontrollable sobs without the power to even alleviate her pain. How dare he do something like that to Iori!

Seeing the changes overtake Azusa, Jordan realized what was going to happen. "I don't know her," he told the podium girl and tried to walk away, but Azusa brushed passed the girl and grabbed him by the arm. Dragging him to a more private area, Jordan moans, "Crap," again before surrendering to her insistence.

Nearby was a seated lounge. Nearly did the woman throw him into a seat before she dialed and called Richie again.

"(Hello? Azusa? Did you find him?)"

"(Yes, thank you. I have him right here and I need you to translate.)"

His tone seemed more excited than before. Maybe it was because he had the potential of telling off Jordan. Because of this man his superior position in front of the ladies was stripped away. It was petty, but this was payback.

"(Why did you leave without saying anything last night.)"

It might have looked goofy that she yelled into the phone, passed it to Jordan, and have Richie yell at him, but this was the only way this conversation could have proceeded.

"I did all I needed to do," he talks into the phone, "I didn't need to be there anymore, so I left."

It was like a boring game of ping pong: speak into the phone, pass the phone, listen to Richie do a translation, respond to the phone, pass it back. The conversation continued as such.

"(That was so mean! You made Iori cry!)"

"I thought she might do that, but it was better this way."

"(How was it better?)"

"That way there wouldn't be any tear-felt goodbye."

Azusa was about to yell at him some more, but that excuse didn't make a lot of sense. Iori would have cried either way.

"(Are you talking about yourself?)"

Jordan grit his teeth and looked away, breaking eye contact for the first time. Azusa realized he was and took the phone back.

"(You are. You really care about her, don't you?)"

Being defiant, the man no longer took the phone into his hands. Instead Azusa leaned in far enough so he could hear what was being spoken over the phone.

Meekly he nods.

"(You don't want to see her go.)"

He still hasn't said anything.

Azusa didn't know how to continue. At first she believed he was trying to protect Iori, and if so his actions didn't help at all, but it was himself he was protecting. This connection between Iori and this man ran much deeper than the kind big sister could have imagined. Once again she felt completely out of her league, but Azusa couldn't just turn away after coming this far. She might say a few wrong things here and there, but she had to be strong and see it through to the end.

"(What would you do differently if Iori were older?)"

"It doesn't matter," Jordan didn't seem to care about the age issue at all. "There's no changing her leaving."

His response was fast, which meant he'd thought about it beforehand. Much more was weighing on his mind than anyone could guess. Azusa's words might not have much of an effect, but she still had to try.

"It's my fault this happened," Jordan began before Azusa could continue. "I never should have let myself get too attached to anybody, let alone someone who could only spend so little time with me. Could you just tell her I'm sorry, please?"

This conversation was dangerously close to drawing to a close. The caring older sister couldn't let that happen!

"(Do you want her to stay?)" she yelled into the phone, greatly jarring Richie. He repeated the question without the same kind of urgency.

"I don't-" but then shakes his head. "Yeah. I want her to stay! I want what I can't possibly have! Hasn't she told you my story?"

Azusa was surprised by the sudden rush of anger that appeared on his face, but she did her best to remain calm. To answer his question she nodded.

"Then you know how I've been living my life until now. I'm tired of wanting things I can't have, and I can barely have anything as it is! If I have to move on no matter what, I want to do it as soon as possible."

Easily did Azusa see the disparity in his reasoning, "(Then why did you stick with us for so long?)"

Jordan cringed and turned away. His answer was simply this, "Because I wanted it to last for as long as possible."

"(So why did you leave last night?)"

"Because it was too much. Any more and I'd break after I said 'goodbye.'"

What was Azusa's goal in coming here and speaking with Jordan? Did she wish to hear his reasons? Did she wish to vent? Or was she trying to get something to happen? The woman in question barely remembered herself. So what about now? Now that she heard his tale, now that she knew how he felt, what did she want to happen? There was one thing she recognized; it didn't matter what she wanted. Beyond the scope of advice had this become. Honestly, Azusa didn't think there was anything she could do at this point.

"(Okay, I understand. Thank you for your time.)" Azusa stood and started to walk away, but then stopped. Speaking something he couldn't hear into the phone, there was a short conversation before she disconnected the call. Turning back to him she said, "Iori flight, 9273. Depart 7:21."

This was all she could do; give him an option, give him a choice. Azusa was incapable of pushing him in one way or the other. What he decided to do with this information was all on him. After she stepped outside she called her friends.

. . .

"Iori!" a familiar voice shouts.

Freezing at the call of her name, she is the only one not to turn and see.

"(Iorin...)"

"(Iori, it's...)"

"(I was getting worried...)"

Dropping her purse, luggage, and Usa-chan, her eyes are already teary before she even sees him. Jordan stands some distance behind her, panting heavily, hair disheveled, a scruffy beard in the making, and once again in his glasses.

Right now they are supposed to be boarding their flight, but this interruption has blown the rest of the world away. Alone are they in this crowded hub of transportation.

Caring nothing of image, Iori sprints to him and nearly tackles him as she dives into his chest. Jordan catches and embraces her as if she's too precious to be allowed to touch the floor. Together they are silent, but everything that needs to be said is communicated by the warmth shared between their two bodies. Like this they stay in euphoric harmony. Nothing from the outside can penetrate the barrier made by these two individuals. To each only they exist.

"I'll never forget you," are the only words he shares.

"Stop!" someone from far away shouts.

Scratch that, he says more, "Crap! They caught up already!"

Two men in dark uniforms are running in their direction. Now that she thought about it, how did he get this far? Wouldn't he have had to go through dozens of security checkpoints to reach this terminal? A person who isn't boarding a flight can't make it past that.

"Sorry, got to go!"

After all the trouble he'd gone through just to make it this far, all they received was less than a minute together. So much effort he puts even into the smallest of things. Iori really...

Before Jordan can completely push himself away, Iori grabs him by the collar,

"Don't forget this either."

Ritsuko could have sworn her glasses cracked at that moment. Ami gasps in exhilaration and Azusa says with a hand hiding her mouth, "Ara ara~" This scene hadn't escaped the notice of the general public, and they cheer and applaud at the spectacle they're witnessing. Iori Minase, 15 years old, a Japanese Idol only five feet in stature, has grabbed a man an entire foot taller than her and bent him to her will. Clearly he hadn't expected this to occur as his eyes are wide and full of surprise. Iori stands under him, expression clean, with her eyes closed and her lips caressing his. The one thing that was bothering her the most wasn't that their relationship must end, but how it would end. Not with a whimper, but a bang.

As they part lips both seem in a daze. He's about to do that again with this time him taking the lead, but the young woman stops him.

"Shouldn't you get going?"

"Crap," doesn't match his low, sensual tone, "I think I should."

The two finally separate, and the airport security are within throwing distance. He runs his fingers through her hair as if for good luck. After that final gaze he never looks back. At this moment he looks invincible.

After picking a direction Jordan rockets into a full-blown sprint. "You'll never catch me alive!" he screams as he jukes past security, then disappears from whence he came.

In the distance they can still hear the racket he's creating, but they can see him no more. Azusa approaches the fulfilled profile of Iori Minase. At least Jordan was partially correct; they parted in tears. However, there wasn't a speck of sadness or loneliness within her. The same must have been true with Huntsman-san. Now it can really end.

"(Are you ready to go?)"

Iori turns and faces her friends, tears spilling from her eyes but with a smile so wide and bright it forever burns itself into someone's memory, "Yes!"

* * *

><p><em>I collapsed at my desk when I finished. I swear it didn't intend it to be this long! Well, the "Grand" in Grand Finale had been put there for a reason, so there. This is it, it's over, thank you and don't forget to tip the doorman on your way out. Honestly, thank you for sticking through this tale I dreamt up one fall afternoon. Now that this is over I'd like to move on to other things, but I may pop back into fanfics somewhere down the road. I've thought up an epilogue to this story, but I think this is as good an ending as I could give. I don't know, if the response to this ending is good I might think about posting a followupsequel *nod nod wink wink* _review_[/cough]_.

_Until then, see you the next time I see you._

_~Kyle Castorena_


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